"Would that we had met in happier days!" she murmured sadly, making a brave effort at self-control.
"No reproaches, Lady Elizabeth," he answered, the touch of formality in the address showing his own equal strife. "What must be, must be! At least I have met you before I die, and for a year and a half I have thought of you, and dreamed of you, and held you the lady of my heart. E'en death itself cannot rob me of that sweet joy--for it is past."
They looked apart, and heard above the voice of the great deep, the unfathomable sound of the moaning surge far beneath them, chafing against the pebbles in the still morning, the wild beating of their hearts; after a little pause he continued more softly,--
"And you--you will forget the young Irishman, the soldier of fortune, whom untoward fate threw across your pathway; and in your own English home, and in the love of your noble husband, may you be happy."
"Nay, not so," she said softly, taking his hand again, her eyes filling with tears; this time she was the stronger. "My heart is not made of such fickle stuff. I shall do my duty, keep my plighted word--even you would have me do no less than that--but not more steadfastly than I shall keep you within my recollection. But do not talk of death, you must not; I know the admiral--he has a kindly heart--"
"I would not live," replied the young man, quietly, "for life is death when the heart is dead."
"Tell me," asked the girl, nervously breaking the almost insupportable silence, "were you there when my mother's picture fell last night?"
"Yes, so near to it that it almost fell into my arms," he answered, smiling.
"A bad omen!" she murmured, shaking her head.
"What, that it should fall into my arms?"