He goes up to her and takes one white, jeweled hand fondly into his own.
"Tell me what troubles you, Vera," he whispers gently.
"Can you not guess, Philip? It is because I must part from you," she answers sadly.
"But why must you do so, Vera?" he asks, gravely, touched to the heart by her drooping and despondent attitude.
"I cannot tell you," she answers sadly, with a heavy sigh.
"Perhaps you have ceased to love me," her lover exclaims, almost sternly.
She starts and fixes her dark eyes reproachfully on his face.
"Oh, would that I had!" she exclaims. "This parting would then be easier to bear!"
They regard each other a moment with painful intentness. The marks of misery on her face are too plain to be mistaken, and the wonder deepens on his own.