The man looked round and his eyes fell upon the figure of the unhappy Beatrice. He evidently recognized her for with a little hesitation he advanced towards her and taking her arm said not unkindly—"Come with me."
"I can't" groaned Beatrice.
"You must," said Lawrence.
Beatrice could do no more but slowly and sadly she followed her enemy.
Many thoughts flashed through her mind during that walk, thoughts that Beatrice will never forget.
At last Lawrence stopped at an Inn door and he mounted the steps and walked in. Beatrice followed in silence.
Presently Lawrence opened a door and the two went into a small but pretty bedroom.
"Now," said Lawrence, turning the key in the door and looking kindly at Beatrice, "have you changed your mind since we last met?"
The tears welled into Beatrice's blue eyes and rolled down her now death-like cheeks. "Lawrence," she sobbed at length, "I wish I could say I had, I almost love you Lawrence but I cannot marry you."
"Very well" answered Lawrence drawing his lips tightly together, "I see my journey to France has been made in vain; I may add," he continued "that I came here purposely to encounter you but all in vain! You have no real reason for not wishing to become my wife—it is not possible; but I will now flee from you and perhaps when I am laid upon my bed for the last time and Death has siezed me in its jaws you will repent of your past wrongs!!"