“It is still impossible, Bourgwan,” she whispered. “I am so sorry;” and as is in pity for the pain I must feel she gave me her hand again.
“If you could think for yourself only?”
“God knows I would so gladly do as you wish.”
It was sweet but yet sad hearing.
“I do wish it and do press it, not for my sake only but for yours,” I urged.
“I cannot, Bourgwan; I cannot leave my country.”
“That is final?” I asked, looking into her eyes.
“You make it so hard for me. I cannot. I cannot.”
I lifted her hand and pressed my lips to it. I had failed; and with a heavy sigh rose and went back to my seat, with a feeling of blank desolateness.
“I have grieved you,” she said gently when I had sat silent some while. “And you have done so much for——”