“Do you doubt me, Jane?”

“Entirely.”

“You have no faith in me?”

“Not a whit.”

“Am I a liar in your eyes?” he asked passionately. “Little sceptic, you shall be convinced. What love have I for Miss Ingram? None: and that you know. What love has she for me? None: as I have taken pains to prove: I caused a rumour to reach her that my fortune was not a third of what was supposed, and after that I presented myself to see the result; it was coldness both from her and her mother. I would not⁠—I could not⁠—marry Miss Ingram. You⁠—you strange, you almost unearthly thing!⁠—I love as my own flesh. You⁠—poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are⁠—I entreat to accept me as a husband.”