"My God!" he cried, fearing her silence. "Sabine, speak to me—I will not hold you for a second if you would rather be free—if you think I cannot chase all sad memories away."
She put out her hand and touched his arm.
"If you will be content to take me, knowing that I have things to forget—and if you will help me to forget them, then I know that I want to marry you, Henry—just as to-night perhaps that little sail we see out there will long to get in to a safe port."
He gave her his promise—with passionately loving words, that he would protect and adore her always, and soothe and cherish her until all haunting memories were gone.
And for the first time since they had known one another, Sabine let him fold her in his arms.
But the lips which he pressed so fondly were cold, like death—and afterwards she went quickly to her room.
The die was irrevocably cast—she could never go back now; she was as firmly bound to Henry as if she had been already his wife.
For her nature was tender and honest and true—and Lord Fordyce had touched the highest chord in it, the chord of her soul.
But, as she stood looking from the narrow, deep casement up at the evening sky, suddenly, with terrible vividness, there came back to her mental vision the chapel at Arranstoun upon her wedding night, with its gorgeous splendors and the candles and the lilies and their strong scent, and it was as if she could feel Michael's kiss when the old clergyman's words were done.
She started forward with a little moan, and put her hands over her eyes. Then her will reasserted itself, and her firm lips closed tight.