"I forgot," he said. "You see, I am so great a stranger, that I fail to remember the habits of my own people. Will you show me the way round?"
"This way," she said; and opening a small door, she took him into a conservatory, and thence to the balcony.
They were silent for a moment or two—he looking at the stars, she with eyes bent to the ground. He was fighting for resolution and determination, she was silently waiting, knowing what was passing in his heart, and wondering, with a throbbing heart, whether her hour of triumph had come.
She had stooped to the very dust to win him, to snatch him from that other girl who had ensnared him; but as she stood now and glanced at him—at the tall, graceful figure, and the handsome face, all the handsomer in her eyes for its haggardness—she felt that she could have stooped still lower if it had been possible. Her heart beat with expectant passion—she longed for the moment when she could rest upon his breast and confess her love. Why did he not speak?
He turned to her at last, and spoke.
"Lenore," he said, and his voice was deep and earnest, almost solemn, "I want to ask you a question. Will you answer me?"
"Ask it," she said, and she raised her eyes to his with a sudden flash.
"When you saw me to-night, when I came in unexpectedly, you were—moved. Was it because you were glad to see me?"
She was silent a moment.
"Is that a fair question?" she murmured.