She heard the deeper tone of rising passion not far away, and she interrupted him.
‘It is all I shall have for the rest of my life,’ she said, and she rose suddenly and held out her hand, meaning that it was time to part.
‘Already?’ he asked, not leaving his seat yet, and looking up beseechingly.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You must not stay. We have told each other what had to be said, and to say more would not be right. Less would not have been just to you.’
He also had risen now and stood before her, meaning to be as brave as she, cost what it might.
‘We are only human,’ she went on, ‘only a man and a woman alone together, and if I let you stay longer this one last time, there may be some word, some look, between us that we shall regret. Though Diego is not here yet, I became his wife again in real truth on the day I accepted his forgiveness; and as his wife, no word to you shall pass my lips that he might not hear. We have tried to do right, you and I; if we have not failed altogether, God help us to do better! If we did wrong in those few sweet days, then God pardon us! I thank you from my soul for being brave and true when you might have dragged me down. For the past we have forgiven each other, as we hope to be forgiven. And so good-bye. I would bless you, if I dared; I can ask a blessing for you, and it will come; I am sure it will. If I die first, I shall wait for you somewhere, and you will come. If you are taken before me, wait for me! Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye!’
Her voice was sweet and steady to the very end, but when he took her hand at last it was cold, and it quivered in his. He began to lift it to his lips, but it resisted him gently, and he obeyed its resistance.
‘Good-bye,’ he said, as well as he could.
But she hardly heard the syllables; and then, in a moment, he was gone.