"Then say something unkind. Do you imagine I shall take two such hateful words as a farewell?"
"Then don't forget me; be sure you don't," cries she, bursting into tears.
The minutes are flying: surely never have they flown with such cruel haste.
"Come, let us go in-doors," she says, when she has recovered herself. "I suppose it is growing late."
"I shall not go in again; I have said good-bye to Mrs. Massereene. It only remains to part from you."
They kiss each other tenderly.
"I shall walk as far as the gate with you," says Molly; and, with a last lingering glance at their beloved nook, they go silently away.
When they reach the gate they pause and look at each other in speechless sorrow. Like all partings, it seems at the moment final, and plants within their hearts the germs of an unutterable regret.
"Good-bye, my life, my darling," he whispers, brokenly, straining her to him as though he never means again to let her go: then, almost pushing her away, he turns and leaves her.
But she cannot part from him yet. When he has gone a hundred yards or more, she runs after him along the quiet moonlit road and throws herself once more into his arms.