"I tell you again, Glory, I do not understand you. Perhaps it is as well that we should live apart. I hate to have a knot in my hands I can't untie. If Elijah understands you, keep to him. I shall look for a mate elsewhere."
"George!" she said plaintively. "You are angry and offended. I am sorry for it. I will do anything for you. True to you I must and will remain, but I will not leave Elijah and follow you. I could not do it."
"Very well then, I shall look for a wife elsewhere."
"You cannot do it." she said.
"Can I not?" echoed George De Witt with a laugh; "I rather believe there is a nice girl at Mersea who only wants to be asked to jump into my arms. It seems to me that I owe her reparation for your treatment of her once on my boat."
"What!"
"Now, Glory! let us understand one another. If you will run off with me—and I see nothing but some silly sentiment to hinder you—then we will be married and live happily together on your little fortune and my pension and what I can pick up."
She shook her head.
"If you will not, why then, I shall go straight from here to Phœbe Musset, and ask her to be my wife; and you may take my word for it that in three weeks the bells that are now pealing from Mersea tower will be pealing again for us."
"You could not do it."
"Indeed I will. I shall go direct to her. My mother wishes it and I know that Phœbe is ready with her yes."
"You can take her, her, to your heart?"
"Delighted to do so."
"Then, George! I never knew you, I never understood you."
"I dare say not, no more than I can understand you. Once again, will you come with me?"
"No, never."
"You never loved me. I shall go to Phœbe and have done with Glory."
She lifted her hands to heaven, pressed them to her
