love her; there was no doubting the sincerity of his words, and she liked
him and he was a gentleman. If she married him there would be an end of
all her worries and troubles, and she could rest contentedly on his
strong arm. Woman, even gifted woman, is not made to fight the world with
her own hand, and the prospect had allurements. But while she thought,
Eustace Meeson's bonny face rose before her eyes, and, as it did so, a
faint feeling of repulsion to the man who was pleading with her took form
and colour in her breast. Eustace Meeson, of course, was nothing to her;
no word or sign of affection had passed between them; and the probability
was that she would never set her eyes upon him again. And yet that face
rose up between her and this man who was pleading at her side. Many
women, likely enough, have seen some such vision from the past and have
disregarded it, only to find too late that that which is thrust aside is
not necessarily hidden; for alas! those faces of our departed youth have
an uncanny trick of rising from the tomb of our forgetfulness. But
Augusta was not of the great order of opportunists. Because a thing might
be convenient, it did not, according to the dictates of her moral sense,
follow that it was lawful. Therefore, she was a woman to be respected.
For a woman who, except under most exceptional circumstances, gives her
instincts the lie in order to pander to her convenience or her desire for
wealth and social ease, is not altogether a woman to be respected.

In a very few seconds she had made up her mind.

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Tombey," she said; "you have done me
a great honour, the greatest honour man can do to a woman; but I cannot
marry you."

"Are you sure?" gasped the unfortunate Tombey, for his hopes had been
high. "Is there no hope for me? Perhaps there is somebody else!"