“Oh, yes! You see—Una—Sajipona is very beautiful; and she is just as good as she is beautiful. I owe her everything. When I am completely myself again, as I said, she has promised—— You see, I have told her that I——”
The words died away as he looked at Una. Her face showed neither anxiety nor surprise, but a deep tenderness and melancholy. At the sight of her he seemed to lose the thread of what he had to say. He was mystified, pitiably torn between the struggles of a memory that remained tongueless, and the realities of a situation that seemed, somehow, peculiarly unreal. Wistfully he held out his hand to the girl whose beauty thus moved him, then hastily withdrew it, turning as he did so to Sajipona.
“Your song was very soothing, my queen,” he said ruefully. “I fear I am not quite myself as yet. Something is wrong—something new. This lady—Una—you will forgive me?”
“Try to remember,” she said earnestly; “there’s nothing to forgive.”
“There’s nothing to remember,” he said disconsolately. “I have tried—but I begin to think it’s all a mistake.”
He turned abruptly, leaving them to go to the room whence he had come a moment before. As he reached the open window he paused irresolutely.
“You will not go?” he said, his eyes meeting Una’s.
“David!” was all her answer.
He shook his head mournfully, hesitated, then slowly passed into the darkened chamber beyond.