I started. I had lost myself in a wilderness of thought and memory.
Santoris stood beside me.
"Your friends are going," he said,—"and I too shall be gone to-morrow!"
A wave of desolation overcame me.
"Ah, no!" I exclaimed—"Surely you will not go—"
"I must," he answered, quietly,—"Are not YOU going? It has been a joy to meet you, if only for a little while—a pause in the journey,—an attempt at an understanding!—though you have decided that we must part again."
I clasped my hands together in a kind of desperation.
"What can I do?" I murmured—"If I yielded now to my own impulses—"
"Ah! If you did"—he said, wistfully—"But you will not; and perhaps, after all, it is better so. It is no doubt intended that you should be absolutely certain of yourself this time. And I will not stand in the way. Good-night,—and farewell!"
I looked at him with a smile, though the tears were in my eyes.
"I will not say farewell!" I answered.