"Is there no hope at all for me?" he said.
"There is no hope—none," she answered. "I will be good to you; I would marry you even, if I could, just to make you happy, but I can't. Were I to marry you, you would be a very miserable man. I have no love for you; on the contrary—"
"Yes!" he said; "speak."
"I will not say what I was going to say; but no woman who feels as I do for you ought to marry you. It would be a mistake, and I will not do wrong that right may come."
"Is that your firm resolve?" he said. "Ah, but you may do wrong that right may come yet; you don't know all!"
She did not even ask him what he meant. He held out his hand.
"Take my hand," he said slowly.
There was something in his tone which made her obey him. She gave her small, white hand into his clasp for a moment.
"I promise that as long as I am ill I will not persecute you by word or deed," he said; and then, before she could prevent him, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
No one saw the action. The Sister of the Red Cross went away with her cheeks on fire.