"Will you marry _me ?"_ He almost laughs aloud as he makes his extraordinary proposal.

If it fails, as it certainly _must_, he will throw up the remnant of his life here and go abroad.

And, at all events, he can so far satisfy his mother as to assure her that he had placed his all at this little heiress's feet.
"You! You!" says she.
She stares at him.
"Even me! You said a moment ago that no man would ask you to marry him for any reason less than love; but I--I am not in love with you, and yet I ask you to marry me." He pauses here, shocked at his own words, his brutal audacity.
"But why ?" asks the girl slowly.
She is looking at him, deep inquiry and wonder in her great gray eyes.
"Because I am poor and you are rich," says he honestly.

"Your money could redeem this old place, and I could give you a title--a small thing, no doubt." "You could take me away from my uncle," says the girl thoughtfully.
There is silence for awhile, and then--"I should be able to do as I liked," says she, as if communing with herself.
"That certainly," says Rylton, who feels as if all things should be allowed her at this juncture, considering how little it is in his power to allow.
"And you ?" She looks up at him.

_"You_ could do as you liked, too!" "Thank you!" says Rylton.
He smiles in spite of himself, but the girl continues very grave.
"You say you have nothing," says she, "but this house ?" "It is useless arguing about it," returns Rylton; "this house will go shortly with all the rest.