“Would it not be far more cruel,” asked Mildred tenderly, “to keep me from the man I love?”
“Mildred dear, I am awake,” I tried to say, for through my bewildered brain the meaning of all this had begun to penetrate, and I realized for the first time that I had been hearing what was too sacred for any other ears than those of Mildred and her lover, Ralph Everett.
But the words choked in my throat, there was only an inarticulate murmur, and the voices ceased.
CHAPTER XIV.
“And a voice said in mastery while I strove,
Guess now who holds thee?—
‘Death,’ I said;
But there the silver answer rang,
‘Not Death, but Love.’”
Sonnets from the Portuguese.