His face grew stern and impassive.
“I do not seek happiness,” he said—“Not for myself. I hope to make happiness for others. Yet truly I doubt whether happiness is possible in this world, except for children and fools.”
“And sorrow?” she queried.
“Sorrow waits on us hand and foot,” he replied—“There is no condition exempt from it.”
“Except mine!” she said, smiling. “I am relieved of both sorrow and joy—I never seem to have known either! I am as indifferent to both as a sunbeam! Good-bye!”
He held her hand, and his dark eyes searched her lovely face as though looking for a gleam of sympathy.
“Good-bye!” he rejoined—“But not for long! Remember that! Those whom you knew in England will not recognise you now,—you will have many difficulties, and you may need a friend’s counsel—I shall follow you very soon!”
“Why should you?” she asked, lightly. His grasp on her hand tightened unconsciously.
“Because I must!” he answered, passionately. “Don’t you see? You draw me like a magnet!—and I cannot resist following my own exquisite creation!”
She released her hand with a decided movement.