I waited for him to speak. Slowly he turned as my questioning eyes had willed. His were black with passion and grief. A look of pain contracted his face, and he said, jerking the words out hoarsely:—
"I'm going away."
The suddenness of it almost took my breath. I had expected different words. Indeed his eyes had shot another message; they said that he would never leave me!
Confused by lips that lied and eyes that confessed, I stammered:—
"Going—not going away? Why? Why should you go?"
I couldn't keep appeal out of my tone, and I could see him brace himself to resist. I think I knew that, if he could, he meant to sacrifice our love to John and Milly. I think I had seen this earlier; but I had thought the struggle past when he came to me and begged me not to leave the city. But perhaps, this time, I didn't understand him; perhaps I was simply confused by his distress.
I thought he tried in vain to look away from me. Then he moved a step nearer, slowly, as if reluctant. His face was haggard.
"Tell me why you are going."
I scarcely knew I spoke. It was as if some will independent of my own had dictated the words. Yet I did not try to hide my heart's wish; it was too late. He was my life, and in all but words—yes, and in words even—I told him so. We had confessed our love. It was his right.
"Listen," I said. "If anything is—is wrong, I must know it. I—I must know it. Tell me. I must know everything. Ned, you must tell me."