‘Of course I do not wish that.’

’Therefore I tell you the truth.  I love you as any other man loves the girl that he does love; and, as far as I know myself now, I never can be happy unless you are my own.’

‘Oh, Will, how can that be when I am engaged to marry another man?’

’As to your engagement I should care nothing.  Does he love you as I love you?  If he loves you, why is he not here?  If he loves you, why does he let his mother ill-use you, and treat you with scorn?  If he loves you as I love you, how could he write to you as he does write?  Would I write to you such a letter as that?  Would I let you be here without coming to you to be looked after by any one else?  If you had said that you would be my wife, would I leave you in solitude and sorrow, and then send you seventy-five pounds to console you?  If you think he loves you, Clara’

‘He thought he was doing right when he sent me the money.’

’But he shouldn’t have thought it right.  Never mind.  I don’t want to accuse him; but this I know and you know; he does not love you as I love you.’

‘What can I say to answer you?’

’Say that you will wait till you have seen him.  Say that I may have a hope a chance; that if he is cold, and hard, and and and, just what we know he is, then I may have a chance.’

’How can I say that when I am engaged to him?  Cannot you understand that I am wrong to let you speak of him as you do?’

‘How else am I to speak of him?  Tell me this.  Do you love him?’ ’Yes I do.’

‘I don’t believe it!’

‘Will!’

’I don’t believe it.  Nothing on earth shall make me believe it.  It is impossible impossible!’

‘Do you mean to insult me, Will?’

’No; I do not mean to insult you, but I mean to tell you the truth.  I do not think you love that man as you ought to love the man whom you are going to marry.  I should tell you just the same thing if I were really your brother.  Of course it isn’t that I suppose you love any one else me for instance.  I’m not such a fool as that.  But I don’t think you love him; and I’m quite sure he doesn’t love you.  That’s just what I believe; and if I do believe it, how am I to help telling you?’

‘You’ve no right to have such beliefs.’

’How am I to help it?  Well never mind.  I won’t let you sit there any longer.  At any rate you’ll be able to understand now that I shall never come to this place any more.’  Clara, as she got up to obey him, felt that she also ought never to see it again unless, indeed unless