“I don’t think I could love you any more,” she replied, “however hard I tried, for you have been my good angel for two happy years, you have been the one bright star of hope, the one pleasant thing in my life. I love you, I love you, I love you,” she murmured, as she leaned forward and laid her cheek upon his hand. He felt her warm breath thrill through him.
“I know it, dear,” he said, and a sad pained look crossed his face; “but what I want to know is, do you care for me sufficiently?”
“I hardly understand,” she answered, frightened she knew not why.
“Will you give me the right to keep you in luxury and protect you from harm?”
She looked up anxiously, there was something in his words and something in his tone she did not comprehend. His face was averted, but she saw how pale and haggard he looked.
“What do you mean?” she questioned, turning sick with an inexplicable dread.
“Could you give up the stage, the world for me? Instead of being your friend I would be your slave.”
She seemed to be in a dream; his words sounded strange, his halting speech, his ashen hue denoted evil.
“Tell me what you mean,” she cried.