“Going away?” repeated the girl quickly, and her face flushed, and then grew a little pale, and John saw this.
“Yes,” went on John, still with an effort, “I think I shall go abroad for a month or two.”
May did not speak; her pallor increased, and her agitation was visible.
“But I shall never forget Woodside,” said John, after a moment’s pause, “nor you—Mayflower—I wish I could.”
“Why?” asked May, in a trembling voice, and she put out her hand as if for support.
“Because I would be happier if I could,” answered John, also much moved; “I will pay a bitter price, I am afraid, for the bright hours I have spent with you.”
“Oh, do not go away, Mr. Temple!” cried May, suddenly, looking at him with imploring eyes. “I—I shall be so lonely—I shall—”
“We must try to forget all this,” said John, and he put his arm around her and pressed his lips on hers. “Dear little girl—dear Mayflower—it is hard, it is bitter to go from you.”
Tears rushed into May’s eyes, and John kissed them away.
“Do not grieve, darling,” he whispered, “it would make me more sad if I thought I had done any harm to you.”