ng even a hard
thought of you. I have never harboured a hard thought of you. It is
not you that I reproach. But he,--he has been if possible more false
than Felix.'

'Oh, Roger, how has he been false?'

Still he was not wishful to tell her the story of Mrs Hurtle. The
treachery of which he was speaking was that which he had thought had
been committed by his friend towards himself. 'He should have left the
place and never have come near you,' said Roger, 'when he found how it
was likely to be with him. He owed it to me not to take the cup of
water from my lips.'

How was she to tell him that the cup of water never could have touched
his lips? And yet if this were the only falsehood of which he had to
tell, she was bound to let him know that it was so. That horrid story
of Mrs Hurtle;--she would listen to that if she could hear it. She
would be all ears for that. But she could not admit that her lover had
sinned in loving her. 'But, Roger,' she said,--'it would have been the
same.'

'You may say so. You may feel it. You may know it. I at any rate will
not contradict you when you say that it must have been so. But he
didn't feel it. He didn't know it. He was to me as a younger brother,--
and he has robbed me of everything. I understand, Hetta, what you
mean. I should never have succeeded! My happiness would have been
impossible if Paul had never come home from America. I have told
myself so a hundred times, but I cannot therefore forgive him. And I
won't forgive him, Hetta. Whether you are his wife, or another man's,
or whether you are Hetta Carbury on to the end, my feeling to you will
be the same. While we both live, you must be to me the dearest
creature living. My hatred to him--'

'Oh, Roger, do not say hatred.'

'My hostility to him can make no difference in my feeling to you. I
tell you that should you become his wife you will still be my love. As
to not coveting,--how is a man to cease to covet that which he has
always coveted? But I shall be separated from you. Should I be dying,
then I should send for you. You are the very essence of my life. I
have no dream of happiness otherwise than as connected with you. He
might have my whole property and I would work for my bread, if I could
only have a chance of winning you to share my toils with me.'

But still there was no word of Mrs Hurtle. 'Roger,' she said, 'I have
given it all away now. It cannot be given twice.'

'If he were unworthy would your heart nev