She gave a troubled sigh and looked at him, pale and perplexed, in deep distress. His pleading moved her as no words of Allan's had ever done, and yet there was more of fear than of love in the emotion that he awakened.
"I have only one thing in the world to ask of you," she said, in a low, agitated voice. "I ask you to leave me to myself. I came here, almost among strangers, in order that I might be calm and quiet, and away from the associations of the past year. You must forgive me, Mr. Wornock, if I say that it was cruel of you to follow me to this refuge."
"Cruel for passionate love to follow the beloved! 'Mr. Wornock,' too! How formal! Suzette, if you do not love me, if I am nothing to you, why did you jilt Carew?"
"I asked him to release me because I felt I did not love him well enough to be his wife."
"Only that?"
"Only that. As time went on, I felt more and more acutely that I could not give him love for love."
"And you cared for no one else?—there was no other reason?" he insisted, trying to take her hand.
"I have hardly asked myself that question; and I will not be questioned by you."
She rose and moved away, he following.
"Mr. Wornock, I am going into the house. I beg you not to persecute me. It was persecution to come here to-day."