“It’s impossible. The thing could not be worked. The Squire would ask me here. I could not always refuse. I couldn’t stand it, Cassandra; it would be too much for flesh and blood. It must be all or nothing.”
“You won’t go at once? I must see you again; I must! I must! There is so much to say. I’m going to do what is right, Dane. I’m strong enough for that, but I must have something for myself! You will meet me again, just once, to—to say good-bye—”
Her voice broke, and the tears poured down her cheeks. Dane kissed them away, murmuring passionate words, promising everything she asked. If they were to part for a lifetime, fate need not grudge them a short hour. He promised, and Cassandra lay silent with closed eyes, her hands clinging to his, her cheek touching his own. In both minds was the thought of the barren years to come when they would remember this hour as a treasure snatched from fate. This was the golden time, the fleeting glory,—let them realise, let them make the most!
Neither spoke; it seemed a waste of time to speak. Dane lifted the beautiful hands and gazed at them with adoring eyes; Cassandra lifted his in her turn, and found their sun-baked strength every whit as beautiful. They looked into each other’s eyes, deeply, endlessly, as lovers look who are about to part, and the world and all that is in it has ceased to exist.
Footsteps came along the winding path but they did not hear; light, tripping footsteps drawing nearer and nearer. They reached the summer-house, and halted before the opened door.
“Cassandra!” said a quiet voice. “It’s me. It’s Grizel!”