“Will you promise truly?”
“I have never broken a promise yet.”
“Did you promise that other woman that you would never love again, I wonder? If so, you are faithful indeed. But you have forgotten that. Will you come back to me if I let you take me where I shall be safe to-night?”
“I will come back whenever you send for me.”
“If you fail, my blood is on your head.”
“Yes—on my head be it.”
“Very well. I will go to that house where I first stayed when I came here. Take me there quickly—no—not quickly either—let it be very long! I shall not see you until to-morrow.”
A carriage was passing at a foot pace. The Wanderer stopped it, and helped Unorna to get in. The place was very near, and neither spoke, though he could feel her hand upon his arm. He made no attempt to shake her off. At the gate they both got out, and he rang a bell that echoed through vaulted passages far away in the interior.
“To-morrow,” said Unorna, touching his hand.
He could see even in the dark the look of love she turned upon him.