Then, with a burst of increased sadness, Cobb continued:
“I crave this love, Mollie, but cannot ask for it. I have already given my pledge to a woman—have promised to marry none but her.”
“Then, Junius, you should not break that promise,” and a relieved expression came over the fair face.
“But she can never be mine; she is dead!” and the strong man bowed his head and wept like a child.
Going up to him, she put her arms about his neck, and kissed him on the forehead, then silently left the room.
As the dial in the executive mansion sounded the hour of 22 that night, a figure wrapped in a black cloak stole silently from the rear entrance of the building, through the gardener’s gate and into the conservatory. An instant later and a tall man had clasped her in his arms, and lovingly pressed her to his heart.
“Ah, Lester, you are waiting for me,” looking up into his manly face.
“Yes, dearest; waiting and watching. These moments by your side, stolen though they are, become the happiest in my life. Ah, Mollie! would that you could be with me forever. Why must I thus always beat about the bush to seek your society?”
Reluctantly he released her, but held one dainty hand in his, as he led her to a wicker seat just beside the daisy rows at the lower end of the conservatory and seated himself by her side.