Juliet gave a great start. "Dick! What are they doing? Oh, stop them—stop them!"
He stooped and caught her outflung hands. His eyes looked deeply into hers. "They are obeying—my orders," he said.
"Yours?" She gazed up at him incredulously, shivering all over as if in an ague.
His face told her nothing. It was implacable, granite-like, save for the eyes, and from those she shrank uncontrollably as though they pierced her.
"Yes, mine," he said sombrely. "I have—something to teach you, Juliet—something that you can only learn—alone with me. And till you have learnt it, there will be no going back."
She bent her head to avoid the unwavering directness of his look.
"You—are going to hurt me—punish me," she said under her breath.
His hands still held hers, and strangely there was something sustaining as well as relentless in their grasp.
"It may hurt you," he said. "I don't feel I know you well enough to judge. As to punishing you—" he paused a moment—"well, I think you have punished yourself enough already."
Again a great tremor went through her,—a tremor that ended in a sob. She bent her head a little lower to hide her tears. But they fell upon his hands and she could not check them. Her throat worked convulsively, resisting all her efforts and self-control. She became suddenly blinded and overwhelmed by bitter weeping.
"Ah, Juliet—Juliet!" he said, and went down on his knees before her, folding her closely, closely to his breast….