the
redundance of my affection would weary you, and, for my part, I should
find it difficult to continually struggle against an impalpable rival,
though, indeed, I should be very willing to put up with that."

"I am sorry you think so."

"Yes, Arthur, I do think so; but you do not know what it costs me to
say it. I am deliberately shutting the door which bars me from my
heaven; I am throwing away the chance I strove so hard to win. That
will tell you how much I think it. Do you know, I must be a strange
contradiction. When I knew you were engaged to another woman, I
strained my every nerve to win you from her. While the object was
still to be gained, I felt no compunction; I was fettered by no
scruples. I wanted to steal you from her and marry you myself. But now
that all this is changed, and that you of your own free will come and
offer to make me your wife, I for the first time feel how wrong it
would be of me to take advantage of you in a moment of pique and
disappointment, and bind you for life to a nature which you do not
really understand, to a violent and a jealous woman. Too late, when
your life was hampered and your future spoiled, you would discover
that you hated me. Arthur dear, I will not consent to bind you to me
by any tie that cannot be broken."

"Hush, Mildred! you should not say such things about yourself. If you
are as violent and jealous as you say, you are also a very noble-
hearted woman, for none other would so sacrifice herself. Perhaps you
are right; I do not know. But, whether you are right or wrong, I
cannot tell you how you have made me respect you."

"Dear, those are the most comfortable words I have ever heard; after
what has passed between us, I scarcely thought to win your respect."

"Then you will not marry me, Mildred?"

"No."

"That is your fixed determination?"

"It is."

"Ah, well!" he sighed, "I suppose that I had better 'top my boom'
again?"

"Do what?"

"I mean I had better leave Madeira."

"Why should you leave Madeira?"

He hesitated a little before replying.

"Well, because if I do not marry you, and still come here, people will
talk. They did before, you know."

"Are you afraid of being talked about, then?"

"I? Oh! dear no. What can it matter to me now?"

"And supposing I were to tell you that what 'people' say, with or
without foundation, is as much a matter of indifference to me as the
blowing of next summer's breezes, would you still consider it
ne