But Leslie could not speak. She was a woman, just a woman, and she found it hard to forgive his betrothal to Lady Eleanor. All else counted for nothing. But that——! She sat motionless and dumb.
"I understand," he said, almost inaudibly. "You are right. Well—good-by, Leslie, good-by!"
"Leslie!" whispered Lucy in an agony.
But still Leslie did not move, but sat, her face hidden, her hands tightly clasped.
"It's no use," said Yorke. "It is more than I could hope for! Good-by, Leslie!"
"Leslie, dear, dear Leslie, he is going!" whispered Lucy. But Leslie remained motionless and silent, and Yorke, with a groan, left them.
"Well?" said Ralph, as Yorke came out into the darkness and the rain.
Yorke shook his head.
"I have failed," he said grimly.
"What? Stop!" exclaimed Ralph moved to pity by the despair and hopelessness of the voice. "Why, man, she loves you!"