"The one thing worse than death, Marian—disgrace!"
And then, with his face turned away, and his eyes resting wearily on the picturesque landscape, he told her his story.
*****
The last word had left his quivering lips, and he stood as though in a dream. The worst was over. He had told his father, and he had told her. It seemed like the end of all things to him.
Suddenly a pair of white arms were thrown around his neck, and a great red rose was crushed to pieces against his waistcoat.
"Herbert! oh, Herbert! how dreadful! Don't look like that, you frighten me!"
He was striving to free himself, but she would not let him go.
"Dearest, you don't understand! This is ruin to me. My father has turned me from the house, commanded me to bear another name, disowned me. Be brave, Marian, for we must part. I am here only to tell you this, and to bid you farewell."
Still she would not let him go.
"You will do nothing of the sort, sir. I'll not be thrown over in that fashion," she said, struggling to smile through her tears. "And, Herbert, oh, Herbert! how ill you look! You've been out all night."