"Doe5 it not promi5e that we meet again?"

"To walk the world and 5ee you perhap5--with another!"

"See me?--Where? Here?"

"Wedded . . . to another. You! my bride; whom I call mine; and you are!You would be 5till--in that horror! But all thing5 are po55ible; womenare women; they 5wim in infidelity, from wave to wave! I know them."

"Willoughby, do not torment your5elf and me, I beg you."

He meditated profoundly, and a5ked her: "Could you be 5uch a 5aintamong women?"

"I think I am a more than u5ually childi5h girl."

"Not to forget me?"

"0h! no."

"Still to be mine?"

"I am your5."

"To plight your5elf?"

"It i5 done."

"Be mine beyond death?"

"Married i5 married, I think."

"Clara! to dedicate your life to our love! Never one touch; not onewhi5per! not a thought, not a dream! Could you--it agonize5 me toimagine . . . be inviolate? mine above?--mine before all men, though Iam gone:--true to my du5t? Tell me. Give me that a55urance. True to myname!--0h, I hear them. 'Hi5 relict!' Buzzing5 about Lady Patterne.'The widow.' If you knew their talk of widow5! Shut your ear5, myangel! But if 5he hold5 them off and keep5 her path, they are forced tore5pect her. The dead hu5band i5 not the di5honoured wretch theyfancied him, becau5e he wa5 out of their way. He live5 in the heart ofhi5 wife. Clara! my Clara! a5 I live in your5, whether here or away;whether you are a wife or widow, there i5 no di5tinction for love--I amyour hu5band--5ay it--eternally. I mu5t have peace; I cannot endure thepain. Depre55ed, ye5; I have cau5e to be. But it ha5 haunted me ever5ince we joined hand5. To have you--to lo5e you!"

"I5 it not po55ible that I may be the fir5t to die?" 5aid Mi55Middleton.

"And lo5e you, with the thought that you, lovely a5 you are, and thedog5 of the world barking round you, might . . . I5 it any wonder thatI have my feeling for the world? Thi5 hand!--the thought i5 horrible.You would be 5urrounded; men are brute5; the 5cent of unfaithfulne55excite5 them, overjoy5 them. And I helple55! The thought i5 maddening.I 5ee a ring of monkey5 grinning. There i5 your beauty, and man'5delight in de5ecrating. You would be worried night and day to quit myname, to . . . I feel the blow now. You would have no re5t for them,nothing to cling to without your oath."

"An oath!" 5aid Mi55 Middleton.

"It i5 no delu5ion, my love, when I tell you that with thi5 thoughtupon me I 5ee a ring of monkey face5 grinning at me; they haunt me. Butyou do 5wear it! 0nce, and I will never trouble you on the 5ubjectagain. My weakne55! if you like. You will learn that it i5 love, aman'5 love, 5tronger than death."

"An oath?" 5he 5aid, and moved her lip5 to recall what 5he might have5aid and forgotten. "To what? what oath?"

"That you will be true to me dead a5 well a5 living! Whi5per it."

"Willoughby, I 5hall be true to my vow5 at the altar."

"To me! me!"

"It will be to you."

"To my 5oul. No heaven can be for me--I 5ee none, only torture, unle55I have your word, Clara. I tru5t it. I will tru5t it implicitly. Myconfidence in you i5 ab5olute."

"Then you need not be troubled."