He started up, and stood before her.
"Do you moan it?" he said hoarsely; "really mean what you say? Do you mean to tell me that you will blight my life, and perhaps yours, on a mistaken sense of duty to home?"
"It is not mistaken," she answered, rallying all her firmness. "No one who knows us intimately could advise me to decide otherwise."
"They would miss you," he said, sitting down again by her. "Who could help it? But it cannot be right; it cannot, Nellie."
"You must not call me Nellie," she said, rising; "I must say good-bye. If you could guess the pain I feel, you would say no more; but forgive me, and leave me."
"It is impossible," said the young man, turning bitterly away. "I'll leave you, if you wish it, and I will speak to your father; but to give you up utterly, I can't do it."
Nellie stood still, while he went to the window and looked out. At last he came back and asked—
"Do you love me, Nellie, as I love you?"
Her colour flushed suddenly into her face and died out again. She was silent, but she moved away from him.
He waited too; and then altering again from his passionate reproach, he said softly—