I say nothing, not a syllable, against your bond! But here, to-night, tell me, promise me that you will make this marriage of yours serve _our_ hopes and ends, the ends that you and I have foreseen together--that it shall be your instrument, not your chain.

We have been six weeks together.

You say you have learnt from me; you have! you have given me your mind, your heart to write on, and I have written.

Henceforward you will never look at life as you might have done if I had not been here.

Do you think I triumph, that I boast?
Ah!" he drew in his breath--"What if in helping you, and teaching you--for I have helped and taught you!--I have undone myself?
What if I came here the slave of impersonal causes, of ends not my own?
What if I leave--maimed--in face of the battle?
Not your fault?
No, perhaps not! but, at least, you owe me some gentleness now, in these last words--some kindness in farewell." He came closer, held out his hands.