‘Do not speak of him, John.’

’I must speak of him.  A man isn’t to hold his tongue when everything he has in the world is at stake.  I suppose he loved you after a fashion, once.’

‘Pray, pray, do not speak ill of him, John.’

’I am not going to abuse him.  You can judge of him by his deeds.  I cannot say anything worse of him than what they say.  I suppose he loved you; but he certainly did not love you as I have done.  I have at any rate been true to you.  Yes, Lily, I have been true to you.  I am true to you.  He did not know what he was about.  I do.  I am justified in saying that I do.  I want you to be my wife.  It is no use your talking about it as though I only half wanted it.’

‘I did not say that.’

’Is not a man to have any reward?  Of course if you had married him there would have been an end of it.  He had come in between me and my happiness, and I must have borne it, as other men bear such sorrows.  But you have not married him; and, of course, I cannot but feel that I may yet have a chance.  Lily, answer me this.  Do you believe that I love you?’ But she did not answer him.  ’You can at any rate tell me that.  Do you think that I am in earnest?’

‘Yes, I think you are in earnest.’

’And do you believe that I love you with all my heart and all my strength and all my soul?’

‘Oh, John!’

‘But do you?’

‘I think you love me.’

’Think!  What am I to say or to do to make you understand that my only idea of happiness is the idea that sooner or later I may get you to be my wife?  Lily, will you say that it shall be so?  Speak, Lily.  There is no one that will not be glad.  Your uncle will consent—­has consented.  Your mother wishes it.  Bell wishes it.  My mother wishes it.  Lady Julia wishes it.  You would be doing what everybody around you wants you to do.  And why should you not do it?  It isn’t that you dislike me.  You wouldn’t talk about being my sister, if you had not some sort of regard for me.’

‘I have a regard for you.’

’Then why will you not be my wife?  Oh, Lily, say the word now, here, at once.  Say the word, and you’ll make me the happiest fellow in all England.’  As he spoke he took her by both arms, and held her fast.  She did not struggle to get away from him, but stood quite still, looking into his face, while the first sparkle of a salt tear formed itself in each eye.  ’Lily, one little word will do it—­half a word, a nod, a smile.  Just touch my arm with your hand and I will take it for a yes.’  I think that she almost tried to touch him; that the word was in her throat, and that she almost strove to speak it.  But there was no syllable spoken, and her fingers did not loose themselves to fall upon his sleeve.  ‘Lily, Lily, what can I say to you?’

‘I wish I could,’ she whispered;—­but the whisper was so hoarse that he hardly recognized the voice.

’And why can you not?  What is there to hinder you?  There is nothing to hinder you, Lily.’