“Yes.”
“I suppose you knew—I—I suppose you knew what it was I wanted to say to you—what it was I would have said, if I had been admitted.”
“Yes, I knew,” she answered, in almost a whisper, and bowed her head.
Arthur sprang toward her and grasped her hand. “You knew—then, you know that—that I love you—Ruth!”
She withdrew her hand, but did not raise her head. He waited for a moment, breathless; then, “Ah, speak to me—won’t you speak to me?” he begged, piteously.
She raised her head now, and gazed into his eyes; but her gaze was not one of gladness.
“Yes, alas, alas, I know it,” she said, very slowly.
Arthur started back.
“Alas, alas?” he repeated after her.
“Oh, yes,” she said, in the same slow, grave way; “it is very, very sad.”