“Ah, I don’t mean that. Only I wanted to tell you before the end—I meant to tell you in any case, but it’s easier now. Vi only found out this morning that mother had led you to think that we had accepted those two—but—but it isn’t so. Lord Denvarre asked me, but I told him I didn’t think I possibly could—only—he wanted me to wait six months and see—and then we met again, and—I knew—then——” But my lips upon hers stayed her, and my arms went fiercely about her again.
“My darling, my darling,” I cried, “and I thought you’d forgotten me utterly, and taken Denvarre for all he could bring you. And now, sweetheart, now—oh, my God,” I groaned, “what can I do, what can I do?”
Her voice was quite steady, and she leaned forward to put her face up to mine. “Then you still want me, dear,” she whispered. “Well, I’m yours till—till the end,” and a tiny sob shook her voice for a moment. “But I want a gift from you before we part, my darling,” and she touched my cheek with a little soft caress.
“A gift?” I stared back into her eyes, devouring with hungry gaze the sweet face that was mine, only to be lost to me again.
“Yes, dear. You have your revolver.”
“IT’LL SOON BE OVER,” I SAID....
Page [296].
I thrust her back from me wildly. My God, how could she ask it? I, to send the bullet into that dear heart that beat for me. I, to give her death, who longed with every passionate impulse of my being to give her life, who would have perilled not only my unworthy body but my very soul to save her pain. The thought of it was more than could be borne; the doing of it—Merciful God! it was impossible.
“Please, my darling. I should only struggle when the last moment came, and fight out into his jaws.” She pressed back close to me again, looking up at me with a pleading that was terrible. “Just one embrace, my own, and then——” and her hands rose round my neck, and for one delicious instant her dear lips pressed passionately against mine. Then, with a little triumphant smile she drew back, and repeated quietly, “Now, dear.”
The water was at my shoulders, and it was only by holding Gwen tightly to me that I kept her face above the surface. There was but a bare three inches between my pistol hand and the roof. I looked at the cartridges with some faint hope that they might be wetted, and that this last terrible duty might be yet taken from me. But the brass cases had held only too well. I raised my revolver, pointing it downward, and looked into those dear eyes. Her eyelids drooped as the steel barrel shone, and I felt her fingers tighten upon my arm. The water was at my lips, but with one supreme effort I raised her to me. One last look into the dearest face in all the world—one last kiss—one touch of that golden hair—then——