ir husbands when they do love them. But,
before God, my first wish is to free you from the misfortune that I
have brought on you." As she made this attestation she started up
from her chair, and coming close to him, took him by the coat. He was
startled, and stepped back a pace, but did not speak; and then stood
looking at her as she went on.

"What matters it whether I drown myself, or throw myself away by
going with such a one as him, so that you might marry again, and
have a child? I'd die;--I'd die willingly. How I wish I could die!
Plantagenet, I would kill myself if I dared."

He was a tall man and she was short of stature, so that he stood over
her and looked upon her, and now she was looking up into his face
with all her eyes. "I would," she said. "I would--I would! What is
there left for me that I should wish to live?"

Softly, slowly, very gradually, as though he were afraid of what he
was doing, he put his arm round her waist. "You are wrong in one
thing," he said. "I do love you."

She shook her head, touching his breast with her hair as she did so.

"I do love you," he repeated. "If you mean that I am not apt at
telling you so, it is true, I know. My mind is running on other
things."

"Yes," she said; "your mind is running on other things."

"But I do love you. If you cannot love me, it is a great misfortune
to us both. But we need not therefore be disgraced. As for that other
thing of which you spoke,--of our having, as yet, no child"--and in
saying this he pressed her somewhat closer with his arm--"you allow
yourself to think too much of it;--much more of it than I do. I have
made no complaints on that head, even within my own breast."

"I know what your thoughts are, Plantagenet."

"Believe me that you wrong my thoughts. Of course I have been
anxious, and have, perhaps, shown my anxiety by the struggle I have
made to hide it. I have never told you what is false, Glencora."

"No; you are not false!"

"I would rather have you for my wife, childless,--if you will try to
love me,--than any other woman, though another might give me an heir.
Will you try to love me?"

She was silent. At this moment, after the confession that she had
made, she could not bring herself to say that she would even try. Had
she said so, she would have seemed to have accepted his forgiveness
too easily.

"I think, dear," he said, still holding her by her waist, "that we
had better leave England for a while. I will gi