"Hannah, I love you. I have always, always loved you. Only you, Hannah, only you!"
Her beautiful hand cooled his burning forehead. "I know," she whispered. And he asseverated: "Even when I was hovering round Marie Falkenhein, it was you, you that I loved. You, only you! Hannah, do you believe me?"
She nodded: "I know."
Suddenly her aspect changed, and instead of the overpowering happiness came a hard, bitter expression.
"I know, too," she continued, in a low voice, "why you have broken off with Marie Falkenhein."
The words struck Reimers like a blow. He started back and tried to disengage himself from her. But the slender fingers held his hand with a spasmodic grasp which almost hurt him.
"You!" he cried. "How can that be?" Hannah had become calm. She stroked his hair tenderly. "How can that be?" she repeated. "Dearest! a woman can always find out anything she really wants to know. I wished to know this, and I know it."
In bitter shame the man broke down completely. He kissed the hem of her robe, and would have turned to the door.
"Forgive! forgive me!" he murmured.
But the fair hands would not let him go, and close in his ear a trembling voice whispered: "Stay, my beloved! For we belong to each other. I am--what you are. We are damned together, both of us. Stay!"