self beloving and herself worthily beloved, could throw her
blessed opportunity away is to me a thing inconceivable, and that,
Arthur, is what your Angela has done."

CHAPTER LXIII

"Then you will not marry now, Mildred?" said Arthur, after a pause.

"No, Arthur."

"No one?"

"No one, Arthur."

He rose, and, leaning over the railing of the verandah, looked at the
sea. The mist that hid it was drifting and eddying hither and thither
before little puffs of wind, and the clear sky was clouding up.

"There is going to be a storm," he said, presently.

"Yes, I think so, the air feels like it."

He hesitated a while, and looked down at her. She seemed very lovely
in the half lights, as indeed she was. She, too, looked up at him
inquiringly. At last he spoke.

"Mildred, you said just now that you would not marry anybody. Will you
make an exception?--will you marry me?"

It was her turn to pause now.

"You are very good," she murmured.

"No, I am not at all good. You know how the case stands. You know that
I still love Angela, and that I shall in all probability always love
her. I cannot help that. But if you will have me, Mildred, I will try
to be a good husband to you, and to make you happy. Will you marry me,
dear?"

"No, Arthur."

"Why not? Have you, then, ceased to care for me?"

"No, dear. I love you more than ever. You cannot dream how much I do
love you."

"Then why will you not marry me? Is it because of this business?"

"No," and raising herself in the low chair, she looked at him with
intense earnestness, "that is not the reason. I will not marry you,
because I have become a better woman since you went away, because I do
not wish to ruin your life. You ask me to do so now in all sincerity,
but you do not know what you ask. You come from the scene of as bitter
a disappointment as can befall a man, and you are a little touched by
the contrasting warmth of your reception here, a little moved by my
evident interest, and perhaps a little influenced by my good looks,
though _they_ are nothing much. Supposing that I consented, supposing
I said, 'Arthur, I will put my hand in yours and be your wife,' and
that we were married to-morrow, do you think, when the freshness of
the thing had worn off, that you would be happy with me? I do not. You
would soon get horribly tired of me, Arthur, for the little leaven
that leavens the whole lump is wanting. You do not love me; and