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, passionate 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 reassuringly, 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 laboring heart throbbed against his as their lips met in a long last caress. His anguished soul invoked
