"I am going to ask you a question," she said. "I want you to put yourself in my place for a moment. Suppose that the honour and fortune of the family rested in my hands, and it was for me to say whether the Haredales were to leave this old place in poverty and disgrace, or whether they were to stay on occupying the old position, what would you do?"
"It depends on circumstances," Fielden said.
"Of course it does, my dear boy. I didn't expect you to make such a tame reply as that. Surely you must know what I mean. It is for me to decide. I have the opportunity of bringing into the family the necessary money to set everything right. But at a price."
"As usual," Fielden, said sadly. "The price happens to be yourself."
"You have guessed it. The price is myself. I suppose it would be no news to you if I told you who the man was."
"Not after last night," Fielden said between his teeth. "So Raymond Copley has asked you to marry him. I suppose it is the old story which one has read in books and newspapers a thousand times. Copley has got your father under his thumb and has threatened to ruin him, unless you consent to be his wife. I am not a very shrewd person, but I felt sure of this when we came home last night. You refused Copley, of course, and he took his refusal in the way such a cad would. He threatened you and said he had your father on his side. And now you are hesitating what to do. You have said that no power on earth shall force you to consent, that you cannot save the family honour at such a price. You are right, May. It is a vile thing to ask of a girl. It is so mean and dishonourable. Heaven knows, I care for your welfare. I never knew how much I did care till we met in London the other night. Then I realized for the first time the price I am paying for my folly. If I hadn't been a fool, you would be my wife to-day, and it would have been my pleasure and privilege to help Sir George out of his trouble. Can you ever forgive me?"
May turned a tearful face towards Fielden. Impulsively she held out her hands to him, and he caught them almost fiercely. They were alone on the wide stretch of Downs. Not a soul was in sight. Neither knew how it happened, but a moment later Fielden's arms were about the girl, and she was crying unrestrainedly upon his shoulder. There was only one thing for it, and that was to kiss the tears away and bring the smiles back to May's lips.
"Now we have done it," Fielden said ruefully. "I am a nice fellow to talk about other men being dishonourable. I ought to be well thrashed for giving way to temptation like this. Fancy a man in my position daring to make love to any girl. But you knew what my feelings were."
"I was sure," May whispered.
"But what are we to do? It would be another matter, I suppose, if it were three months later and the Blenheim colt had won the Derby. Then, perhaps, Sir George would forgive me and make the best of it for your sake. As it is, I have only succeeded in complicating matters. You are resolved, of course, that nothing will induce you to change your mind so far as Copley is concerned. But will you have strength enough to do it, May? I don't think you realize the pressure which would be put upon you when you find that Haredale Park will have to go, when you find yourself in lodgings——"