“Oh, Charley!” reproachfully.
“Honor bright,” he answered, still without smiling, and adding nervously, “oh, Rosalind, can’t you see that he would be a better match for you than I, because he loves you, while I—I, in spite of myself, have grown cold, careless, indifferent to you!”
“Cruel! Cruel!” sobbed the girl, behind her jeweled fingers.
“Yes, I know it, dear, but I cannot help it. I tried to be true to you, but fate willed otherwise, and I’ve struggled too long! I give it up for useless now. Despise me if you will, I deserve it, I know, and I don’t blame you. But, Rosalind, if you held me to my promise I couldn’t make you happy. I should hate you, instead of loving you. There, the bitter truth is out! Will you set me free?”
“It might not be as easy for me as for you, Charley. I am not so fickle-minded, perhaps, but I suppose I have a right to ask you one question!”
“Oh, yes, go on,” he said.
“It is only this, Charley, dear: Has your heart only wandered from me, or is there—some one else?”
His handsome face flushed a little under her sorrowful glances, but he answered bravely:
“Forgive me for hurting you, Rosalind, but I will not deceive. Yes, you have guessed the truth. There is some one else!”
Rosalind sighed heavily: