“O Mr. Wrayburn,” she answered as before, “you know me better than that too!”

There was something in the attitude of her whole figure as he supported it, and she hung her head, which besought him to be merciful and not force her to disclose her heart. He was not merciful with her, and he made her do it.

“If I know you better than quite to believe (unfortunate dog though I am!) that you hate me, or even that you are wholly indifferent to me, Lizzie, let me know so much more from yourself before we separate. Let me know how you would have dealt with me if you had regarded me as being what you would have considered on equal terms with you.”

“It is impossible, Mr. Wrayburn. How can I think of you as being on equal terms with me? If my mind could put you on equal terms with me, you could not be yourself. How could I remember, then, the night when I first saw you, and when I went out of the room because you looked at me so attentively? Or, the night that passed into the morning when you broke to me that my father was dead? Or, the nights when you used to come to see me at my next home? Or, your having known how uninstructed I was, and having caused me to be taught better? Or, my having so looked up to you and wondered at you, and at first thought you so good to be at all mindful of me?”

“Only ‘at first’ thought me so good, Lizzie? What did you think me after ‘at first’? So bad?”

“I don’t say that. I don’t mean that. But after the first wonder and pleasure of being noticed by one so different from any one who had ever spoken to me, I began to feel that it might have been better if I had never seen you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were so different,” she answered in a lower voice. “Because it was so endless, so hopeless. Spare me!”

“Did you think for me at all, Lizzie?” he asked, as if he were a little stung.

“Not much, Mr. Wrayburn. Not much until to-night.”

“Will you tell me why?”

“I never supposed until to-night that you needed to be thought for. But if you do need to be; if you do truly feel at heart that you have indeed been towards me what you have called yourself to-night, and that there is nothing for us in this life but separation; then Heaven help you, and Heaven bless you!”

The purity with which in these words she expressed something of her own love and her own suffering, made a deep impression on him for the passing time. He held her, almost as if she were sanctified to him by death, and kissed her, once, almost as he might have kissed the dead.

“I promised that I would not accompany you, nor follow you. Shall I keep you in view? You have been agitated, and it’s growing dark.”

“I am used to be out alone at this hour, and I entreat you not to do so.”

“I promise. I can bring myself to promise nothing more to-night, Lizzie, except that I will try what I can do.”

“There is but one means, Mr. Wrayburn, of sparing yourself and of sparing me, every way. Leave this neighbourhood to-morrow morning.”

“I will try.”