Only say you will make one trial and I should be content.' And then her innate respect for another's individuality, her shrinking from what might prove to be the tyranny of a dying wish interposed, and she checked herself.

'No, don't promise; I have no right--no one has any right.

I can only tell you my feeling--my deep sense that there is hope--that there is nothing against you.

Men--good men--are so often over-timid when courage would be best.

Be bold, Eustace; respect your own love; do not be too proud to show it--to offer it!' Her voice died away into silence, only Eustace still felt the caressing touch of the thin fingers clasped round his.