"You love me," he muttered. "Me? You're sure that it's me that you love?"
Her eyes opened, startled at his tone.
"If it isn't you that I love, then I'm sure that I can't be loving any one at all."
"And you'll believe in me—whatever happens?"
"I will——" she repeated proudly. "Whatever happens—since this has happened to us both."
"Some day—you'll know," he muttered painfully, "that I—I'm not what I seem to be. And then I want you to remember this hour, this moment, Moira, as it is to me.... I want you to remember how you came into my arms when I hadn't the strength to repel you, remember the touch of my lips in tenderness—and in reverence—Moira ... that love was too strong for me ... for it has made me false to myself ... false to you...."
She drew away from him a little, deeply perturbed. "You frighten me, alanah."
"I—I don't want to. To-morrow——" he paused, searching for strength to speak. But it did not come.
"To-morrow. What do you mean?"
The repetition of the word seemed like a confirmation of his resolution and shocked him into action. Quietly he took her hands down from his shoulders, kissed them in farewell, and turned away.