"I am sorry, very sorry—but it is impossible," she said softly.
Maxwell moved a pace or two forward, and his face seemed to have grown suddenly haggard.
"Think," he urged hoarsely. "This means so much to me. Will it always be impossible? I shall not change."
Lilian fancied she could believe him. She looked him fully in the eyes as she answered.
"It can never be possible. I am sorry. If I had known, I should have tried to warn you. You must forget me."
Maxwell recognized finality in her tone. For the space of several seconds he turned his head away. Then he faced round again, speaking very quietly:
"You have nothing to reproach yourself with. The mistake was mine. I shall, however, never forget you; and I want you to promise that if any adversity overtakes you—which God forbid—you will remember me. I sail for Africa shortly, and it may be long before we meet again. Now I will walk with you up the drive."
He held out his arm, and Lilian wondered a little at his composure as she laid her hand on it and they passed together into the blackness of the firs.
Miss Chatterton had not long joined her aunt when Dane came in, and glanced in her direction as he made some not oversapient observation to Chatterton. She did not avoid his gaze, but met it coldly, and, gathering up some needlework, moved without ostentation, but deliberately, out of the room. No speech could have been plainer, and Dane grew hot, while the fingers of one hand contracted without his will.
"You don't look well, Hilton," remarked Thomas Chatterton. "Is your head troubling you?"