ed his forces together by an almost superhuman effort, and
managed to speak at last; but the sweat stood in great drops on his
brow.

"Cynthia, don't--don't speak so, for God's sake! I know nothing, I have
nothing to say!"

Clinging to his knees, she looked up at him, her eyes full of
supplication.

"Is the cost too great?" she cried. "Will you not tell the truth for my
sake--for Cynthia's sake?"

Scarcely knowing what he did, he pushed back his chair, and wrenched
himself free from her entreating hands.

"I cannot bear this, Cynthia! If I could---- But it is of no use; I have
nothing--nothing to tell."

He had moved away from her; but he came back when he saw that she had
fallen forward with her face on the chair where he had been sitting. He
leaned over her. At first he thought that she had fainted; but presently
the movement of her shoulders showed him that she was but vainly
endeavoring to suppress a burst of agonising sobs.

"Cynthia," he said, "believe in my love, darling! If you believe in
nothing else, you may be sure of that."

He laid his hand gently round her neck, and, finding that she did not
repulse him, knelt beside her and tried to draw her to his breast. For a
few minutes she let her head rest on his shoulder, and clung to him as
if she could not let him go. When she grew calmer, he began to whisper
tender words into her ear.

"Cynthia, I will give up all the world for your dear sake! Let us go
away from England together, and live only for each other, darling! We
could be happy somewhere, away from the toil and strife of London, could
we not? I love you only, dearest--only you! If you like, we would go to
America and see whether we could not find your poor father, who, I have
heard, is living there; and we could cheer his last days together. Will
you not make me happy in this way, Cynthia? Be my wife, and let us
forget all the world beside."

She shook her head. She had wept so violently that at first she could
not speak.

"Why do you shake your head? You do not doubt my love? My darling, I
count the world well lost for you. Do not distrust me again! Do you
think I mind what the world says, or what my relatives say? You are
Cynthia and my love to me, and whose daughter you are matters
nothing--nothing at all!"

"But it matters to me," she whispered brokenly--"and I cannot consent."

"Dearest, don't say that! You must consent! Your only chance of
happiness lies with me, and mine with yo