Katherine hesitated; she did not like to say in so many words that she had refused him, a curious, half-remorseful feeling made her especially considerate towards him.

“I do not like to speak of Lord de Burgh,” she said at length.

“When does he return?

“I do not know.  I know nothing of his plans.”

“Then you sent him empty away?” said Errington, smiling.

“I very nearly married him!” she exclaimed, frankly.  “He was kind and generous, and would have been good to the boys; but at last I could not.  Oh!  I could not!”

“I am sorry for De Burgh,” said Errington, thoughtfully, “but you were right; your wisdom is more of the heart than the head.  Do you remember that day (how vividly I remember it!) when you came to me and told me your strange story?  It was the turning-point of my life.  When I confessed I knew nothing of the deep, warm, tender affection that actuated you, you said that for me wisdom was from one entrance quite shut out.”

“I can remember nothing clearly of that dreadful day, only that you were very forgiving and good,” returned Katherine, pressing her hands together to still their trembling.

“Well, from the moment you spoke those words, the light of the wisdom you meant dawned upon me, and grew stronger and brighter, till my whole being was flooded with the love you inspired.  You opened a new world to me; your voice was always in my ears, your eyes looking into mine.”  He spoke in a low, earnest, but composed tone, as if he had made up his mind to the fullest utterance.  Katherine covered her face with her hands with the unconscious instinct to hide the emotion she felt it would express.  “Many things kept me silent.  Fear that the sight of me was painful to you; the dread of seeming to seek your fortune; my own uncertain position.  Then, when all was taken from you, and I was by my own act deprived of the power to help you, you were so brave and patient that profound esteem mingled with the strange, sweet, wild fire you had kindled!  Am I so painfully associated in your mind that you cannot give me something of the wealth of love stored in your heart?  You have taught me what love is, will you not reward so apt a pupil?”

“Mr. Errington,” said Katherine, letting him take her cold trembling hand, “is it possible you can love and trust a woman who has acted a lie for years as I have?”

“I cannot help both loving and trusting you, utterly,” he returned, holding her hand tenderly in both his own.  “I believe in your truth as I believe in the reality of the sun’s light, and if you can love me I believe I can make you happy.  I have but a humble lot to offer you, yet I think it is—­it will be a tranquil and secure one.  I can help you in bringing up those boys, I will never quarrel with you for clinging to them, and will do the best I can for them!  You know I have a creditor’s claim; Roman law gave the debtor over into the hands of the creditor,” continued Errington, growing bolder as he felt how her hand trembled in his grasp; “you must pay me by the surrender of yourself, by accepting a life for a life.  Katherine——­”