“It’s more civilized than you imagine—there are also a great many men of good family who left England during the Commonwealth, remember. And who are still leaving—for the same reason I am. It isn’t that I’m going there because I think the men and women in America are better or different from what they are in England; they’re the same. It’s because America is a country that’s still young and full of promise, the way England hasn’t been for a thousand years. It’s a country that’s waiting to be made by the men who’ll dare to make it—and I intend getting there while I can help make it my way. In the Civil Wars my father lost everything that had belonged to our family for seven centuries. I want my children to have something they can’t lose, ever.”

“Well, then, why trouble yourself to fight for England—since you love her so little!”

“Amber, Amber,” he said softly. “My dear, someday I hope you’ll know a great many things you don’t know now.”

“And someday I hope you’ll sink in.your damned ocean!”

“No doubt I’m too great a villain to drown.”

She jumped off the bed in a fury, but suddenly she stopped, turned and looked at him as he lay leaning on his elbow and watching her. And then she came back and sat down again, covering his hand with both of hers.

“Oh, Bruce, you know I don’t mean that! But I love you so —I’d die for you—and you don’t seem to need me at all, the way I need you! I’m nothing but your whore—I want to be your wife, really your wife! I want to go where you go, and share your troubles and plan with you for what you want, and bear your children—I want to be part of you! Oh, please, darling! Take me to America with you! I don’t care what it’s like, I swear I don’t! I’ll live in anything! I’ll do anything! I’ll help you cut down trees and plant tobacco and cook your meals—Oh, Bruce! I’ll do anything, if only you’ll take me with you!”

For a moment he continued to stare at her, his eyes glittering, but just when she thought she had convinced him he shook his head and got up. “It would never work out that way, Amber. It’s not your kind of life and in a few weeks or months you’d get tired of it, and then you’d hate me for bringing you.”

She ran after him, throwing herself before him, grabbing frantically at the happiness that seemed just to elude her fingers but which she was sure she could catch. “No, I wouldn’t, Bruce! I swear it! I promise you! I’d love anything if you were there!”

“I can’t do it, Amber. Let’s not talk about it.”

“Then you’ve got another reason! You have, haven’t you? What is it?”

He was suddenly impatient and faintly angry. “For the love of God, Amber, let it go! I can’t do it. That’s all.”

She looked at him for a long .minute, her eyes narrowed. “I know why,” she said slowly at last. “I know why you won’t take me over there, and why you won’t marry me. It’s because I’m a farmer’s niece and you’re a nobleman. My father was only a yeoman, but your family was sitting in the House of Lords before there was one. My mother was just a plain simple woman, but your mother was a Bruce and descended from no one less than Holy Moses himself. My relatives are farmers—but you’ve got some Stuart blood in you, if you look hard enough to find it.” Her voice was sarcastic and bitter, and as she talked her mouth twisted, giving an ugly expression to her face.

She turned angrily away and began to pull on the rest of her clothes, while he watched her. There was a kind of tenderness on his face now and he seemed to be trying to think of something to say to her that would help take away the painful sense of humiliation she felt. But she gave him no opportunity to speak. In only two or three minutes she was dressed and then as she picked up her cloak she cried: “That’s why, isn’t it!”

He stood facing her. “Oh, Amber, why must you always make things hard for yourself? You know as well as I do that I couldn’t marry you if I wanted to. I can’t marry just for myself. I’m not alone in the world, floating in space like a speck of dust. I’ve got relatives by the score—and I’ve got a responsibility to my parents who are dead and to their parents. The Bruces and Carltons mean nothing to you—and there’s no reason why they should —but they’re damned important to the Bruces and Carltons.”

“That wheedle won’t pass with me! You wouldn’t marry me even if you could! Would you!”

They stared at each other; and then his answer cracked out, surprising as the sharp report of a pistol.

“No!”

For an instant Amber continued looking at him, but her face had turned beet-red and the blue cords throbbed in her throat and forehead. “Oh!” she screamed, almost hysterical with rage and pain. “I hate you, Bruce Carlton! I hate you—I—” She turned and rushed from the room, slamming the door after her. “I hope I never see you again!” she sobbed to herself as she dashed headlong down the stairs. And she told herself that this was the end—the last insult she would take from him—the last time he would ever—

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