The passion of her low cry thrilled Eustace’s heart.  He looked up and saw on her face the expression of the hidden yearning of a lifetime.  It struck him as something awful and sacred; he could not answer it except by look and touch, and presently she went on after another pause: 

’His sister will come to him very likely—­his widowed sister.  She has a girl he is fond of.  After a while he will take pleasure in her.—­Then I have thought so much of you and of the future.  So often last night I thought I saw you and her, and what you ought to do seemed to grow plain to me.  Dear Eustace, don’t let anything I say now ever be a burden to you—­don’t let it fetter you ever—­but it is so strong in me you must let me say it all.  She is not in love with you, Eustace—­at least, I think not.  She has never thought of you in that way; but there is everything there which ought to lead to love.  You interest her deeply; the thought of you stands to her as the symbol of all she wants to reach; and then she knows what you have been to all those who trusted you.  She knows that you are good and true.  I want you to try and carry it farther for her sake and yours.’  He looked up and would have spoken, but she put her soft hand over his mouth.  ’Wait one moment.  Those about her are not people to make her happy—­at any time if things went wrong—­if she broke down—­she would be at their mercy.  Then her position—­you know what difficulties it has—­it makes my heart ache sometimes to think of it.  She won my love so.  I felt like a mother to her.  I long to have her here now, but I would not let Paul send; and if I could think of her safe with you—­in those true hands of yours.  Oh, you will try, darling?’ He answered her huskily and brokenly, laying his face to hers on the pillow.

’I would do anything you asked.  But she is so likely to love and marry.  Probably there is some one—­already.  How could it not be with her beauty and her fame?  Anybody would be proud to marry her, and she has such a quick eager nature.

‘There is no one!’ said Marie, with deep conviction in the whispered words.  ’Her life has been too exciting—­too full of one interest.  She stayed with me; I got to know her to the bottom.  She would not have hidden it.  Only say you will make one trial and I should be content.’

And then her innate respect for another’s individuality, her shrinking from what might prove to be the tyranny of a dying wish interposed, and she checked herself.  ’No, don’t promise; I have no right—­no one has any right.  I can only tell you my feeling—­my deep sense that there is hope—­that there is nothing against you.  Men—­good men—­are so often over-timid when courage would be best.  Be bold, Eustace; respect your own love; do not be too proud to show it—­to offer it!’ Her voice died away into silence, only Eustace still felt the caressing touch of the thin fingers clasped round his.  It seemed to him as if the life still