‘No, no, I beg of you!’

‘I must speak to you!’ He laid his hand upon her arm, and said, ’I beg of you.  I have something to say—­it is of great importance.  Come in.’

They looked at each other a moment, and it seemed as if they could see into each other’s souls.  Then a look of yielding passed into her eyes, and she said—­

‘Well, what is it?’

The familiarity of the words struck her, and she saw by the kindling tenderness in his eyes that they had given him pleasure.  She almost knew he was going to tell her that he loved her.  He looked towards the open door, and, guessing his intention, she said—­

’Don’t shut it!  Speak quickly.  Remember that she may pass at any moment.  Were she to find us together, she would suffer; it would be tears and reproaches.  What you have to say to me is about her?’

’Of course; we never speak of anything else.  But we must not be overheard.  I must shut the door.’  She noticed a certain embarrassment in his manner.  Suddenly relinquishing his intention to take her hands, he said—­

’This cannot go on; our lives are being made unbearable.  You agree with me—­do you not?’

‘Yes,’ she said, with a curious inquiring look in her eyes.  ’You had better let me leave.  It is the only way out of the difficulty.’

‘You know very well, Julia, that that is impossible.’

It was the first time he had used her Christian name, and she knew now he was going to ask her to marry him.  A frightened look passed into her face; she turned from him; he took her hands.

‘No, Julia,’ he said; ’there is another and better way out of the difficulty.  You will stop here—­you will be my wife?’ Reading the look of pain that had come into her eyes, he said, ’You will not refuse me?  I want you—­I can do nothing without you.  If you leave me, I shall never be able to write my play; it can only be written under your influence.  I love you, Julia!’ She allowed him to draw her towards him, and then she broke away.

‘Oh,’ she said, ’why do you say these things?  You only make my task harder.  You know that I cannot betray my friend.  Why do you tempt me to do a dishonourable action?’

’A dishonourable action!  What do you mean?  It is the only way to save her.  Once we are married, she will forget.  No doubt she will shed a few tears; but to save the body we must often lose a limb.  It is even so.  Things cannot go on as they are.  We cannot watch her withering away under our very eyes; and that is what is actually happening.  I have thought it all over, considered it from every point of view, and have come to the conclusion that—­that, well, that we had better marry.  You must have seen that I always liked you.  I did not myself know how much until a few days ago.  Say that I am not wholly disagreeable to you.’

’No; I will not listen to you!  My conscience tells me plainly where my duty lies.  Not for all the world will I play Emily false.  I shudder to think of such a thing; it would be the basest ingratitude.  I owe everything to her.  When I hadn’t a penny in the world, and when in my homelessness I wrote to Mr. Burnett, she pleaded in my favour, and decided him to take me as a companion.  No, no! a thousand times no!  Let go my hands.  Do you not know what it is to be loyal?’