He was ready primed to receive them. 'Cytherea, will you marry me?' he said.
He could not wait in his original position till the answer came.
Stepping across the front of the fire to her own side of the chimney corner, he reclined at her feet, and searched for her hand. She continued in silence awhile.
'Edward, I can never be anybody's wife,' she then said sadly, and with firmness.
'Think of it in every light,' he pleaded; 'the light of love, first.
Then, when you have done that, see how wise a step it would be. I can only offer you poverty as yet, but I want--I do so long to secure you from the intrusion of that unpleasant past, which will often and always be thrust before you as long as you live the shrinking solitary life you do now--a life which purity chooses, it may be; but to the outside world it appears like the enforced loneliness of neglect and scorn--and tongues are busy inventing a reason for it which does not exist.' 'I know all about it,' she said hastily; 'and those are the grounds of my refusal. You and Owen know the whole truth--the two I love best on earth--and I am content. But the scandal will be continually repeated, and I can never give any one the opportunity of saying to you--that--your wife . . . .' She utterly broke down and wept.
'Don't, my own darling!' he entreated. 'Don't, Cytherea!' 'Please to leave me--we will be friends, Edward--but don't press me --my mind is made up--I cannot--I will not marry you or any man under the present ambiguous circumstances--never will I--I have said it: never!' They were both silent. He listlessly regarded the illuminated blackness overhead, where long flakes of soot floated from the sides and bars of the chimney-throat like tattered banners in ancient aisles; whilst through the square opening in the midst one or two bright stars looked down upon them from the grey March sky. The sight seemed to cheer him.
'At any rate you will love me?' he murmured to her.
'Yes--always--for ever and for ever!' He kissed her once, twice, three times, and arose to his feet, slowly withdrawing himself from her side towards the door. Cytherea remained with her gaze fixed on the fire. Edward went out grieving, but hope was not extinguished even now.
He smelt the fragrance of a cigar, and immediately afterwards saw a small red star of fire against the darkness of the hedge. Graye was pacing up and down the lane, smoking as he walked. Springrove told him the result of the interview.