There was something in the man's face, or in his voice, that warned Judith, who pressed both hands to her bosom in quick alarm.
"No, no, not here—the light is not strong enough. I have promised to give it up on our wedding-day, and I will."
"And not before?"
"No, I will not give it up before."
Judith Hart drew toward the dilapidated window that opened upon that balcony which overhung the deepest portion of the lake. She made a singularly wild figure, standing there, with her bloodless face, and all the thick masses of her hair thrust back, while the rays of a fitful moon streamed over her.
Storms came close to her, speaking low, and with unusual gentleness.
"Judith, I thought that you loved me."
"So I do; better than myself; better than my own soul!"
"Yet you keep a paper from me that might destroy me."
"It never shall. You could not keep it safer than I will."