Part 95 (1/2)

”But we shall not live in town. You have promised to come to the country with me,” says he quickly. ”And even if this plant dies, another can grow--a new one. I told you that I bought a place.

It--it is in the same county as Oakdean.”

”Ah! Oakdean!” A pathetic look grows within her large eyes. She turns aside. ”I _dread_ the country now that my old house is gone---- I----” Suddenly she gives way, and bursts into a storm of tears. ”Everything seems gone!” cries she. ”But if I _must_ seek a new home let me go to it at once. Don't let me think about it. Take me there as soon as ever you can.”

”To-morrow,” says Rylton, ”if you wish.”

”Yes, yes,” feverishly, ”to-morrow.”

She is sobbing bitterly.

”t.i.ta,” says Rylton, who is now very pale, ”if it costs you so much, I give up my plan. Stay with Margaret--stay where you like, only let me provide for you.”

”No, I shall go with you,” says t.i.ta, making a violent effort to suppress her sobs. ”It is arranged, I tell you. Only let me go _at once_. I cannot stand the thinking of it day by day.”

”To-morrow, then, by the evening train; will that suit you?”

”Yes.”

”I shall call for you here?”

”Yes.”

”Remember our compact. You shall be as free as air.”

”I know.”

He goes to her, and, taking her head between his hands, kisses her forehead. He would have liked to take her in his arms and kiss her with all his heart, but something forbids him.

”Good-bye, t.i.ta.”

”Good-bye.”

He has his hand upon her shoulder now.

”Do you know you have never once called me by my name,” says he.

”Have I not?” mournfully.

”Not once; and if we are to be friends--friends, at least--you might----” He pauses, but no answer comes. ”Well, good-bye,” says he again.

He is half-way across the room when she says: ”Good-bye, Maurice,”

in a faint tone, like a child repeating a lesson.

The sorrow in Rylton's heart is deeper as he leaves the house.