“Do you really ask me to tell you of my excuse?” said Vane, and he felt a little ashamed of himself for the prevaricating question. “Do you not know?”
Miss Thomas said nothing, but made a slight motion of her dress. Vane bit his lip, and felt that this was cowardly. The moon had gone into a cloud, but he fancied, from the position of her head, that she was looking at him with her large eyes. Her dress seemed to have a light of its own, which made her form still visible in the darkness. Suddenly he pictured to himself the way his conduct would look to her if she really cared for him, and he felt sure that she did, and he knew that she attracted him more than any woman he had ever met.
“Because I love you, Winifred,” said Vane, and he laid his hand on hers.
“Oh—h,” sighed the girl with a sort of shudder, as if he had given her pain, “I am so sorry.” Vane caught his breath. “Oh, I am so sorry!” Vane pressed her little hand convulsively. “Oh, I never thought it was this. Why did you tell me? Why did you not leave it unsaid? Now I shall lose you for always.” Her voice broke in a sob.
“Do you mean that you will not marry me? Do you mean that you do not love me? You must know how I have loved you.” Vane covered her hand with kisses. Miss Thomas seemed to be unconscious of this, but went on in a sort of cry, asking him to forgive her. “Do you mean that there is no hope?” said he, gravely.
“Oh, no! none. You know how much I like you, but I can never marry you. You will forget all this, will you not?” There was a long silence between them, but her hand still lay in his. Meantime the sky had grown black in front of them. Vane was straining his eyes to see her face. There was a flash of lightning, and he saw that her cheek was wet with tears. Some large drops of rain came pattering down among the leaves.
“We must hurry back,” said Vane suddenly, dropping her hand. She rose silently and followed him along the path. In a few moments they got back to the place of supper. They were the first to arrive, but in a moment they heard voices in the shrubbery.
“You will try and forget this evening, will you not?” said Miss Thomas, hurriedly. “Try and be as if it had never happened. And oh, tell me, are you very unhappy?”
“I am very sorry,” said he, “but I am going to-morrow to France.” Miss Thomas made a movement of surprise, but there was no time for more to be said, as the thunderstorm was really upon them, and every one was hastening to the river. On the boat Vane found Miss Thomas a seat, and then went alone to the bow. He was very unhappy. He had not fancied that he would be so unhappy. He was very much disappointed, and, perhaps, a little angry. Coming up from the wharf in New York he was, as a matter of course, put in the same carriage with Miss Thomas. There were two other people with them, and Vane endeavored to act light comedy, but was not well seconded by the girl herself, who was silent and very pale. They went to Mrs. Gower’s house for supper, but all the women were wet, and most of the men ill-tempered, and the party broke up early. Vane took his leave at once, and went back to his lodgings to finish his packing for the voyage. As soon as he had done he went immediately to bed and fell asleep late in the night, having as a latest waking thought the consciousness that he had for many months been making a fool of himself.