“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he murmured again. “Don’t take it so hard. It isn’t worth it, after all. Come, dear, cheer up! There are other things in the world besides plots and plotting. Marry me at the first port we touch. Then, later, we can help your cause all you like.”
Gently the girl freed herself and stood alone. On her fair skin the color deepened from neck to temples; her wet eyes glistened. A lock of hair had escaped and trailed down over her forehead; she put it back mechanically.
“No,” she said gently. “No, it can never be.”
“Never!” Once more Caruth caught her in his arms. “Never!” he shouted. “By Heaven! I swear it shall be!” Hotly he showered kisses upon her hair, her face, her lips.
She did not resist. For the moment she could not. A sense of intoxication numbed her faculties. “Oh!” she breathed. “I did not know that it was so sweet—so sweet!”
“Yes, dear; it is sweet. And it will continue sweet through all the years to come. Can you not see those years, dear one? Each with its own peculiar happiness, yet each the same—for we shall be the same. Yes, it is sweet, Marie.”
Slowly the girl raised her face, and the tragedy in her eyes appalled him. There was love in them, love unutterable, but there was misery, too, misery, hopeless, unspeakable. “I thank God!” she said slowly. “I thank him for this moment. Whatever comes, I thank him that he has given me to know the love of a good man. See what it has done for me. A little while ago I was afraid, afraid, afraid. But now I fear no longer. I do not care what happens now.”
“And you will marry me at the first port?”
Slowly the girl shook her head. She still rested in his embrace, her dark eyes fixed on his. “No,” she murmured. “No! I cannot.”
Dismay swept over Caruth. “But——” he began.