“Miss H—,” said I, “I am going to take leave of you.”
“Going to leave me!” she exclaimed, her voice quivering as she spoke.
“Yes; I must start for Melbourne to-morrow morning.”
She remained silent for some seconds; and I could see that the colour had forsaken her checks.
“I am very sorry,” she said at length, “very sorry to hear it.”
“Sorry!” I repeated, hardly knowing what I said, “why should that grieve you?”
I should not have asked such a question; and, as soon as I had done so, I perceived the mistake I had made.
She offered no reply to it; but sate down upon the bank; and rested her head upon her hands. An expression had come over her countenance, unmistakeably of a painful character; and I could see that her eyes were fast filling with tears.
“Surely this girl loves me? And surely I could love her?”
I know not how these two mental interrogatories were answered. I only know that, instead of rejoicing in the knowledge that I had gained her love, I was made miserable by the thought.