_My_ scruple, _my_ feeling, were nothing to you.

Your pride was engaged as well as your pity, and I must give way.

Marcella! you talk of justice--you talk of equality--is the only man who can get neither at your hands--the man whom you promised to marry!" His voice dwelt on that last word, dwelt and broke.

He leant over her in his roused strength, and tried to take her hand.

But she moved away from him with a cry.
"It is no use! Oh, don't--don't! It may be all true.