Yet, he was the soul of honor. He did not even contemplate retreating from his position as Roma's affianced husband. He only felt that he must avoid the fatal beauty of Liane, lest he go mad with despair at his cruel fate.
Then had followed the meeting with her again, that night when he had so fortunately saved her from the insults of a stranger and the brutality of her old grandmother. How proud and glad he had been to defend her, even at the pain of a broken arm; how he had loved her in that moment, longed to shelter her on his breast from the assaults of the cruel world.
He could never forget that moment when, overcome by gratitude, the girl had bent and kissed his hand, sending mad thrills of love through his trembling frame.
Had he been free, he would have poured out his full heart to her that moment, and the tender stars would have looked down on a scene of the purest love, where two hearts acknowledged each other's sway in ecstasy.
But he was bound in the cruel fetters of another's love, from which he could not in honor get free. His heart must break in silence.
He had to hurry away from her abruptly to hide the love he must not confess.
In his sorrow and suffering that night, judge what happiness came to him with Roma's angry letter, sent by special messenger, restoring his ring and his freedom!
His heart sang pæans of joy as he let his thoughts cling lovingly to Liane, realizing that now he might woo and win the shy, sweet maiden for his own.
Very early in the morning he penned his note to Roma, making it purposely curt and cold, that she might not attempt a reconciliation.