The tears stood in her eyes. She seemed startled by the intense energy with which he spoke; her next words scarcely rose above a whisper. "Percival," she said, "I don't like to see you suffer."
"Then I will leave you," he said, sternly. "For, if I stay, I can't pretend that I do not feel the pain of losing you."
He turned away, but before he had gone two steps a hand was placed upon his arm.
"I can't let you go in this way," she said. "Oh, Percival, you have always been good to me till now. I can't begin a new life by giving you pain. Don't you understand what I want to say?"
He put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her face. The deep colour flushed his own, but hers was white as snow, and she was trembling like a leaf.
"Do you love me, Elizabeth?" he said.
"I don't know," she answered, simply, "but I will marry you, Percival, if you like."
"That is not enough. Do you love me?"
"Too well," she answered, "to let you go."
And so he stayed.