Yes, she might well weep, but the tears should all be for herself.
The old man was smiling, his eyes closed; but no breath issued through the parted lips. Pierre Koustak would never leave Varenac now.
CHAPTER XXX
THE TERROR COMES TO KÉRNAK
"I love him. Oh, Gabrielle, I love him. And—and yet I bade him go to Varenac."
"You love Morice?"
Gabrielle's arm was round her cousin's slender waist as they sat together in the deep embrasure of a window overlooking the clustering heads of the oak-trees, which grew around the foot of the hillock on which the château stood, and away over the purple landes where the mist-wraiths of evening gathered.
"You love Morice?"
A pair of big, troubled eyes were raised to hers at the repetition of the words.