in so many words, but for other purpose her answer had been full
enough. 'This is very sad,' he said, 'sad indeed; but I thought
that you would have been firmer.'

'Do not chide me again, George.'

'No;--it is to no purpose.'

'You said that I was--a curse to you?'

'O Marie, I had hoped,--I had so hoped, that you would have been my
blessing!'

'Say that I am not a curse to you, George!'

But he would make no answer to this appeal, no immediate answer; but
stood silent and stern, while she stood still touching his arm,
waiting in patience for some word at any rate of forgiveness. He
was using all the powers of his mind to see if there might even yet
be any way to escape this great shipwreck. She had not answered his
question. She had not told him in so many words that her heart was
still his, though she had promised her hand to the Basle merchant.
But he could not doubt that it was so. As he stood there silent,
with that dark look upon his brow which he had inherited from his
father, and that angry fire in his eye, his heart was in truth once
more becoming soft and tender towards her. He was beginning to
understand how it had been with her. He had told her, just now,
that he did not believe her, when she assured him that she had
thought that she was forgotten. Now he did believe her. And there
arose in his breast a feeling that it was due to her that he should