For the need of patience and grit would be gone--I should have nothing to work for--no object in view--no goal to attain.

Don't you see how it is with me?
And so--as things have turned out--I must leave Weircombe at once--I must fight this business through by myself----" "Angus!" and putting Charlie gently down, she rose from her chair and came towards him, trembling--"Do you mean--do you really mean that all is over between us ?--that you will not marry me ?" He looked at her straightly.
"I cannot!" he said--"Not if I am true to myself as a man!" "You cannot be true to _me_, as a woman ?" He caught her in his arms and held her there.
"Yes--I can be so true to you, Mary, that as long as I live I shall love you! No other woman shall ever rest on my heart--here--thus--as you are resting now! I will never kiss another woman's lips as I kiss yours now!" And he kissed her again and again--"But, at the same time, I will never live upon your wealth like a beggar on the bounty of a queen! I will never accept a penny at your hands! I will go away and work--and if possible, will make the fame I have dreamed of--but I will never marry you, Mary--never! That can never be!" He clasped her more closely and tenderly in his arms--"Don't--don't cry, dear! You are tired with your long journey--and--and--with all the excitement and trouble.

Lie down and rest awhile--and--don't--don't worry about me! You deserve your fortune--you will be happy with it by and by, when you find out how much it can do for you, and what pleasures you can have with it--and life will be very bright for you--I'm sure it will! Mary--don't cling to me, darling!--it--it unmans me!--and I must be strong--strong for your sake and my own"-- here he gently detached her arms from about his neck--"Good-bye, dear!--you must--you must let me go!--God bless you!" As in a dream she felt him put her away from his embrace--the cottage door opened and closed--he was gone.
Vaguely she looked about her.

There was a great sickness at her heart--her eyes ached, and her brain was giddy.

She was tired,--very tired--and hardly knowing what she did, she crept like a beaten and wounded animal into the room which had formerly been her own, but which she had so long cheerfully resigned for Helmsley's occupation and better comfort,--and there she threw herself upon the bed where he had died, and lay for a long time in a kind of waking stupor.
"Oh, dear God, help me!" she prayed--"Help me to bear it! It is so hard--so hard!--to have won the greatest joy that life can give--and then--to lose it all!" She closed her eyes,--they were hot and burning, and now no tears relieved the pressure on her brain.