"Now tell me, Lina, what does this mean?"
She shook her head sadly, murmuring:
"Nothing, Ralph, nothing."
"Do not trifle with me, Lina. Something must have occurred to cause this agitation. Can you not trust me?"
"There is nothing the matter! I was ill, and—and cried without knowing why."
"You cannot deceive me with an excuse like that. Has any one hurt your feelings! do tell me what has happened."
But Lina only shook her head, and choked back the despair which rose to her lips. He would have taken her in his arms again, but the movement and the touch of his hand roused her to the fearful consciousness that she had no longer a right to seek consolation in his companionship. She broke away, terrified and oppressed, with a feeling of guilt at her momentary forgetfulness.
"Leave me, Ralph, I wish—I need to be alone."
"You wish—you need to be alone! This is very strange, Lina! Will you give me no explanation? Have I offended you—tell me what I can have done? You know that I would rather die ten thousand deaths than cause you a moment's pain.
""Do not speak so, Ralph; do not torture me by such fears. You have never wounded me by word or look—you have always been kind and generous."