Part 15 (1/2)

And although he was feigning love and endeavouring to console her, yet there was no help for it--they were inseparable, their beings were knit together, their hearts were one.

She possessed the fatal power of fascination. He was under her spell.

With an effort to shake off the gloom that was possessing him, he spoke to her words of comfort.

She tried to reply, but a great sob choked her utterance.

Presently she released herself gently but firmly, saying--

”You must go, Hugh; you have been here too long, and I am not well to-day. I want to be alone.”

”Yes, you are right,” replied he woefully. ”I ought not to have caused you this pain. I am to blame.”

Yet something of hope returned to him as he spoke, for she clasped her arms around his neck, and, clinging to him closely, fixed upon him a look of moving appeal.

Slowly she drew down his head towards her face, and then gave him a warm, pa.s.sionate kiss.

”Good-bye, Hugh,” she said in a broken pleading voice. ”Remember you have one who loves you more dearly than life.”

”I've been a fool. Forgive me for speaking as I did,” he entreated.

”Yes,” she replied, with a sigh; ”if we love one another, why should there be any mistrust between us?”

Why? Had he not cause for apprehension? he asked himself.

But her arms were about his neck, her head pillowed upon his shoulder.

The sweet perfume of violets intoxicated him. In a moment he became convinced that she was terribly in earnest, and was confident of her intense affection.

”I have no mistrust whatever, darling,” he said rea.s.suringly, stroking her hair with infinite tenderness.

”I--I am satisfied,” she murmured. ”But tell me, Hugh, once more, that I shall be your wife.”

”Yes, indeed you shall, dearest; I care for no one else but you,” said he, with a grave look.

Her labouring heart throbbed against his as their lips met in a long last caress. His anguished soul invoked the blessing on her that his quivering lips refused to utter, and he tore himself away.

He took one look back, and saw her totter a few steps after him with arms outstretched, then stop.

Gazing upon her with a loving glance, he waved his hand, and pa.s.sed out.

When he had gone she stood motionless and silent for a few moments, looking wildly around, but mute under the leaden weight of her thoughts.

Then she walked with slow, uneven steps to the ottoman by the fire, and sank upon it.

The fierce strain had been removed from her nerves, and her happiness found vent in hysterical sobs.

”I hate myself. It's horrible, and yet I am powerless,” she cried pa.s.sionately.

Then she lapsed into a silence broken only by long, deep sighs.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.