The sensitive young face was convulsed with an agony words could not express and the silence was pitiful. The man bending over her could hear the throb of his own heart. A quartet of serenaders celebrating the victory of the election stopped at the gate and the soft strains of the music came through the open window. Norton felt that he must scream in a moment if she did not answer. He bent low and softly repeated:
"You'll do as I ask now, and give him up?"
The tangled mass of brown hair sank lower and her answer was a sigh of despair:
"Yes!"
The man couldn't speak at once. His eyes filled. When he had mastered his voice he said eagerly:
"There's but one way, you know. You must leave at once without seeing him."
She lifted her face with a pleading look:
"Just a moment—without letting him know what has passed between us—just one last look into his dear face?"
He shook his head kindly: