At these words, all recollection of his purpose passed out of Philip’s mind; all he realized was that, unless he could alter her determination, he was about the lose the woman he so passionately adored, and whose haughty pride was to him in itself more charming than all poor Maria’s gentle love.

“Hilda, do not go,” he said, seizing her hand, which she immediately withdrew; “do not leave me.  You know how I love you.”

“And why should I not leave you, even supposing it to be true that you do love me?  To my cost I love you, and am I any longer to endure the daily humiliation of seeing myself, the poor German companion, who has nothing but her beauty, put aside in favour of another whom I also love.  You say you love me, and bid me stay; now, tell me what is your purpose towards me?  Do you intend to try to take advantage of my infatuation to make me your mistress?  It is, I am told, a common thing for such proposals to be made to women in my position, whom it would be folly for wealthy gentlemen to marry.  If so, abandon that idea; for I tell you, Philip, that I would rather die than so disgrace my ancient name to gratify myself.  I know you money-loving English do not think very much of race unless the bearers of the name are rich; but we do; and, although you would think it a mesalliance to marry me, I, on the other hand, should not be proud of an alliance with you.  Why, Philip, my ancestors were princes of royal blood when yours still herded the swine in these woods.  I can show more than thirty quarterings upon my shield, each the mark of a noble house, and I will not be the first to put a bar sinister across them.  Now, I have spoken plainly, indelicately perhaps, and there is only one more word to be said between us, and that word is good-bye,” and she held out her hand.

He did not seem to see it; indeed, he had scarcely heard the latter part of what she said.  Presently he lifted his face, and it bore traces of a dreadful inward struggle.  It was deadly pale, and great black rings had painted themselves beneath the troubled eyes.

“Hilda,” he said, hoarsely, “don’t go; I cannot bear to let you go.  I will marry you.”

“Think of what you are saying, Philip, and do not be rash.  I do not wish to entrap you into marriage.  You love money.  Remember that Maria, with all her possessions, asks nothing better than to become your wife, and that I have absolutely nothing but my name and my good looks.  Look at me,” and she stepped out into a patch of moonlight that found its way between the trees, and, drawing the filmy shawl she wore from her head and bare neck and bosom, stood before him in all the brightness of her beauty, shaded as it was, and made more lovely by the shadows of the night.

“Examine me very carefully,” she went on, with bitter sarcasm, “look into my features and study my form and carriage, or you may be disappointed with your bargain, and complain that you have not got your money’s worth.  Remember, too, that an accident, an illness, and at the best the passage of a few years, may quite spoil my value as a beautiful woman, and reflect, before I take you at your word.”