I made my way to the door again, tried it again; I laid my ear to the key-hole, and then I distinctly heard the creaking of the stairs; some one was coming down. The hall was crossed, the bolt of the door was gently drawn. I fell back a little; some one came out with a firm step, and sprang on to the path.
It was a mere shadow that I could see; I caught him by the arm.
“Gabriel,” I said, “where are you going?”
He started violently, and something fell from his hand.
“You?” he cried. “Why are you here? Emilia! you have come too soon!”
I remember that I clutched his wrists, as if in fear that he might even then lift his hand against himself.
“You coward!” was all I said; “oh, you coward!” He did not answer me, and we stood so a while. Then he said gently:
“Your hands are cold, my girl; let us go in.”
We made our way into the study. After some groping, we found the matches and lighted a candle. Gabriel sat down by the table and buried his face in his hands. I went to him and stroked his hair.
“Poor boy,” I said; “I guessed how it would be; that’s why I came.”