Far, far better for Rosalie! She too would be saved—free from the peril of his presence. For where could happiness come to her from him? He might not love her; he might not marry her; and it were well to go now, while yet love was not a habit, but an awakening, a realisation of life. His death would settle this sad question for ever. To her he would be a softening memory as time went on.
The girl who had watched by the curtain stepped softly inside the room ... she divined his purpose. He was so intent he did not hear.
“I will do it,” he said to himself. “It is better to go than to stay. I have never done a good thing for love of any human being. I will do one now.”
He turned towards the window through which the sunlight streamed. Stepping forward into the sun, he uncorked the bottle.
There was a quick step behind him, and the girl’s voice said clearly:
“If you go, I go also.”
He turned swiftly, cold with amazement, the blood emptied from his heart.
Rosalie stood a little distance from him, her face pale, her hands held hard to her side.
“I understand all. I could not go outside, I stayed there”—she pointed to the other room—“and I know why you would die. You would die to save others.”
“Rosalie!” he protested in a hoarse voice, and could say nothing more.