She looked upwards as though seeking an inspiration, then spoke again.
“I will be no stumbling-block in your path of righteousness. Was it for this that I was given to you? Love is longer than your law, Rupert, and is not that doctrine which we practise named Renunciation? It seems that those who would reap must sow.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, Rupert, that this woman who has behaved so ill repents, and what says our Book—the Book you taught me to believe? ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged!’ I mean that since she has kept its letter, that oath still stands between you and her.”
“Then I must leave you?” he muttered hoarsely.
“Yes, Rupert, I suppose so.”
“And what will become of you then?”
“I,” she replied, with another of her sweet smiles, “oh! what does it matter? But if you wish to know, I will tell you. I think that I shall die, and go to wait for you where love remains, and your law is finished. Shall we agree that together, my Rupert?”
His hands trembled, and the veins swelled upon his forehead.
“I can’t,” he said hoarsely, “God forgive me, I can’t—yet. You are nobler than I, Mea.”