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‘You don’t want me, then?’ he said, in his subtle, insinuating voice.

‘I don’t want to speak to you,’ she said, averting her face.

‘You put your hand on me, though,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have done that, and then I should never have thought of it. You shouldn’t have touched me.’

‘If you were anything decent, you’d know that was a mistake, and forget it,’ she said.

‘I know it was a mistake–but I shan’t forget it. If you wake a man up, he can’t go to sleep again because he’s told to.’

‘If you had any decent feeling in you, you’d have gone away,’ she replied.

‘I didn’t want to,’ he replied.

She looked away into the distance. At last she asked:

‘What do you persecute me for, if it isn’t for the money. I’m old enough to be your mother. In a way I’ve been your mother.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘You’ve been no mother to me. Let us marry and go out to Canada–you might as well–you’ve touched me.’

She was white and trembling. Suddenly she flushed with anger.

‘It’s so indecent,’ she said.

‘How?’ he retorted. ‘You touched me.’

But she walked away from him. She felt as if he had trapped her. He was angry and depressed, he felt again despised.

That same evening she went into her father’s room.

‘Yes,’ she said suddenly. ‘I’ll marry him.’

Her father looked up at her. He was in pain, and very ill.

‘You like him now, do you?’ he said, with a faint smile.

She looked down into his face, and saw death not far off. She turned and went coldly out of the room.

The solicitor was sent for, preparations were hastily made. In all the interval Matilda did not speak to Hadrian, never answered him if he addressed her. He approached her in the morning.

‘You’ve come round to it, then?’ he said, giving her a pleasant look from his twinkling, almost kindly eyes. She looked down at him and turned aside. She looked down on him both literally and figuratively. Still he persisted, and triumphed.

Emmie raved and wept, the secret flew abroad. But Matilda was silent and unmoved, Hadrian was quiet and satisfied, and nipped with fear also. But he held out against his fear. Mr. Rockley was very ill, but unchanged.

On the third day the marriage took place. Matilda and Hadrian drove straight home from the registrar, and went straight into the room of the dying man. His face lit up with a clear twinkling smile.

‘Hadrian–you’ve got her?’ he said, a little hoarsely.

‘Yes,’ said Hadrian, who was pale round the gills.

‘Ay, my lad, I’m glad you’re mine,’ replied the dying man. Then he turned his eyes closely on Matilda.

‘Let’s look at you, Matilda,’ he said. Then his voice went strange and unrecognizable. ‘Kiss me,’ he said.

She stooped and kissed him. She had never kissed him before, not since she was a tiny child. But she was quiet, very still.

‘Kiss him,’ the dying man said.

Obediently, Matilda put forward her mouth and kissed the young husband.

‘That’s right! That’s right!’ murmured the dying man.