“You have told me that before,” he said, “but I am not a free agent. I was obliged to come. I have been here these three days past, watching for an opportunity to speak to you; and when I do you once more cast me off—you drive me away. Well, I have borne it so long; I can go on bearing it till you relent, or—I die,” he added softly.
She looked at him wildly for a moment, and his hopes rose, for the relenting seemed close at hand, but she was stern and cold again directly.
“And your betrothed wife,” she said. “What of her?”
He was silent for a few moments, and then he made a deprecating sign with his hands.
“What do you know of her?” he said.
“Everything,” she replied. “How basely and cruelly you have behaved to her. Is this your honour as a man?”
He heard a deep sigh.
“I have only one thing to say in my defence,” he said slowly. “I believed that I loved her; but then I had not seen you. I was not under this spell.”
“It is no spell,” she said firmly. “Go to her, and forget me. I tell you that I am not worthy to be your wife, and that such a union is impossible for reasons which I dare not explain. You hear me?”
“Yes,” he said sadly, “I hear you.”