Perhaps Meta could read his thoughts in his eyes. I do not myself believe in thought-reading; but if there be such a faculty, it surely is the gift of true lovers.
“Oh! stay with us for ever,” she whispered.
“Would I could,” he answered. “Would that I could.”
“But you will for months?”
“Nay, but for one short week.”
The bright face fell, and tears again bedimmed the eyes.
“Dearest Meta,” he murmured—
“‘I could not love thee half so much
Loved I not honour more.’”
Next day, when alone with her, he bravely told her all. She was convulsed with grief. He knew she would be so. He let her weep on for a time. Tears bring such relief.
“I love you just the same, and will marry you on my return.”