which was also drawn far down in a gloomy frown; his breath came thick
and fast, and his hands were clenched tight together. Hawbury watched
him in silence as before, feeling all the time the impossibility of
saying any thing that could be of any use whatever.

"Well, old fellow," said Dacres at last, giving a long breath, in
which he seemed to throw off some of his excitement, "you're right, of
course, and, I am helpless. There's no chance for me. Paying
attentions is out of the question, and the only thing for me to do is
to give up the whole thing. But that isn't to be done at once. It's
been long since I've seen any one for whom I felt any tenderness, and
this little thing, I know, is fond of me. I can't quit her at once. I
must stay on for a time, at least, and have occasional glimpses at
her. It gives me a fresh sense of almost heavenly sweetness to look at
her fair young face. Besides, I feel that I am far more to her than
any other man. No other man has stood to her in the relation in which
I have stood. Recollect how I saved her from death. That is no light
thing. She must feel toward me as she has never felt to any other. She
is not one who can forget how I snatched her from a fearful death, and
brought her back to life. Every time she looks at me she seems to
convey all that to me in her glance."

"Oh, well, my dear fellow, really now," said Hawbury, "just think. You
can't do any thing."

"But I don't want to do any thing."

"It never can end in any thing, you know."

"But I don't want it to end in any thing."