He hides his face upon the far edge of the cushion on which my aching head is reclining. I can no longer see him, but can feel his whole frame trembling with suppressed emotion. With some far-off, indistinct sensation of pity, I press the hand that still holds mine.
Presently I rouse myself, and, rising to a sitting posture, I fix my dull eyes upon the opposite wall, and speak.
"I suppose it is to my old home I must go."
As though the words stung him, Marmaduke gets up impetuously, and walks back to his former position upon the hearthrug. I noticed that his face has grown, if possible, a shade paler than before. A sudden look of fear has over-read it.
"Yes, yes; of course you shall go home for a little time if you wish it," he says, nervously.
"Not for a little time; forever," I return. A horrible pain is tugging at my heart.
"Phyllis," cries he almost fiercely, "what are you saying? You cannot mean it. Forever? Do you know what that means? If you can live without me, I tell you plainly I would rather ten thousand times be dead than exist without you. Are you utterly heartless, that you can torture me like this? Never to see you again; is that what you would say?" Coming nearer, so close that he touches me, while his eyes seek and read with desperate eagerness my face, "Speak, speak, and tell me you were only trying to frighten me."
"I cannot. I meant just what I said," I gasp, consumed by a sudden dread of I scarcely know what. "Why do you disbelieve? What other course is open to me?"
"Listen,"—trying to speak calmly, and seizing hold of my hands again; "why should you make this wretched story public? As yet, no one is the wiser; you and I alone hold the secret. This woman, this fend, will go anywhere will do anything, for sufficient money, and I can make it worth her while to be forever silent. When she returns to Italy, who then will know the truth?"
"The truth—ah! yes—-"