‘Contented?’ She smiled incredulously.  ‘For how long?’

‘Who can say?  I have lost the habit of looking far forward.’

Marcella kept silence so long that he concluded she had nothing more to say to him.  It was an opportunity for taking leave without emotional stress, and he rose from his chair.

‘Don’t go yet,’ she said at once.  ’It wasn’t only this that I’——­

Her voice was checked.

‘Can I be of any use to you in Bristol?’ Peak asked, determined to avoid the trial he saw approaching.

‘There is something more I wanted to say,’ she pursued, seeming not to hear him.  ’You pretend to be contented, but I know that is impossible.  You talk of going back to a dull routine of toil, when what you most desire is freedom.  I want—­if I can—­to help you.’

Again she failed to command her voice.  Godwin raised his eyes, and was astonished at the transformation she had suddenly undergone.  Her face, instead of being colourless and darkly vehement, had changed to a bright warmth, a smiling radiance such as would have become a happy girl.  His look seemed to give her courage.

’Only hear me patiently.  We are such old friends—­are we not?  We have so often proclaimed our scorn of conventionality, and why should a conventional fear hinder what I want to say?  You know—­ don’t you?—­that I have far more money than I need or am ever likely to.  I want only a few hundreds a year, and I have more than a thousand.’  She spoke more and more quickly, fearful of being interrupted.  ’Why shouldn’t I give you some of my superfluity?  Let me help you in this way.  Money can do so much.  Take some from me, and use it as you will—­just as you will.  It is useless to me.  Why shouldn’t someone whom I wish well benefit by it?’

Godwin was not so much surprised as disconcerted.  He knew that Marcella’s nature was of large mould, and that whether she acted for good or evil its promptings would be anything but commonplace.  The ardour with which she pleaded, and the magnitude of the benefaction she desired to bestow upon him, so affected his imagination that for the moment he stood as if doubting what reply to make.  The doubt really in his mind was whether Marcella had calculated upon his weakness, and hoped to draw him within her power by the force of such an obligation, or if in truth she sought only to appease her heart with the exercise of generosity.

‘You will let me?’ she panted forth, watching him with brilliant eyes.  ’This shall be a secret for ever between you and me.  It imposes no debt of gratitude—­how I despise the thought!  I give you what is worthless to me,—­except that it can do you good.  But you can thank me if you will.  I am not above being thanked.’  She laughed unnaturally.  ’Go and travel at first, as you wished to.  Write me a short letter every month—­every two months, just that I may know you are enjoying your life.  It is agreed, isn’t it?’