"I cannot—she cannot," she replied, earnestly, solemnly. "Even to me, heart to heart, she could not open her lips. Ley! Fate is against you—you and her. There is no hope, no hope! I feel it; I who would not have believed it, did not believe it even from you! There is no hope, Ley!"
He let her sink into a chair and stood beside her, a look on his face that was not good to see.
"Is there not?" he said, in a low voice. "You have appealed to her. There is still one other to appeal to; I shall seek him."
She looked up, not with alarm but with solemn conviction.
"Do not," she said, "unless you wish to add to her sorrow! No, Ley, if you strike at him, the blow must reach her."
"She told you that?"
"Yes; by word, by look. No, Ley, there is no hope there. You cannot reach him except through her, and you will spare her that. 'Tell him,' she said, 'that any effort he makes will add to my misery. Tell him that I pray we may never meet again.'" She paused a moment. "Ley, I know no more of the cause than you, but I know this, that she is right."
He stood looking down at her, his face working, then at last he answered:
"You are a brave girl, Lil," he said. "You must go now; even you cannot help me to bear this. 'Pray that we may never meet again,' and this was to have been our marriage day!"