She was not surprised; he was so completely part and parcel of her thoughts and her life that she would never have felt surprised at seeing him. He came up to her quietly.
"My darling Madaline, your face is pale, and there are tears in your eyes. What is the matter? What has brought you out here when you ought to be in-doors? What is the trouble that has taken away the roses and put lilies in their place?"
"I have no trouble, Lord Arleigh," she replied. "I came here only to think."
"I cannot tell you," she answered. "You cannot expect that I should tell you everything."
"You tell me nothing, Madaline. A few words from you should make me the happiest man in the world, yet you will not speak them."
Then all the assumed lightness and carelessness died from his manner. He came nearer to her; her eyes drooped before the fire of his.
"Madaline, my love, let me plead to you," he said, "for the gift of your love. Give me that, and I shall be content. You think I am proud," he continued; "I am not one-half so proud, sweet, as you. You refuse to love me--why? Because of your pride. You have some foolish notions that the difference in our positions should part us. You are quite wrong--love knows no such difference."
"The world!" he repeated, with contempt. "Thank Heaven it is not my master! What matters what the world says?"
"You owe more to the name and honor of your family than to the world," she said.
"Of that," he observed, "you must allow me to be the best judge."
"The dearest thing in life to me is the honor of my name, the honor of my race," said Lord Arleigh. "It has never been tarnished and I pray Heaven that no stain may ever rest upon it. I will be frank with you, Madaline, as you are with me, though I love you so dearly that my very life is bound up in yours. I would not ask you to be my wife if I thought that in doing so I was bringing a shadow of dishonor on my race--if I thought that I was in even ever so slight a degree tarnishing my name; but I do not think so. I speak to you frankly. I know the story of your misfortunes, and, knowing it, do not deem it sufficient to part us. Listen and believe me, Madaline--if I stood with you before the altar, with your hand in mine, and the solemn words of the marriage service on my lips, and anything even then came to my knowledge which I thought prejudicial to the fame and honor of my race, I should without hesitation ask you to release me. Do you believe me?"