"But what name?"
"Your friend;—your friend of friends."
"It will not do. It is cold."
"Then it is untrue to her from whom it comes. Do you think that my friendship is cold for you?"
She had turned towards him, and was sitting before him with her face looking into his, with her hands clasped as though in assurance of her truth;—when suddenly he had her in his arms and had pressed his lips to hers. In a moment she was standing in the middle of the room. Though he was strong, her strength was sufficient for her. "My lord!" she exclaimed.
"Ah, you are angry with me?"
"My lord, my lord,—I did not think you would treat me like that."
"But, Marion; do you not love me?"
"Have I not told you that I do? Have I not been true and honest to you? Do you not know it all?" But in truth he did not know it all. "And now I must bid you never, never to come again."
"But I shall come. I will come. I will come always. You will not cease to love me?"