“Editha—my happiness—my love—all that is dearest and best in the world, how can you go away from me so? I cannot bear it. I will not believe this fearful thing that is to rob us of all our bright future.”
She lay resistless in his embrace now; it was for the last time, she thought, even if she had not been too weak to move.
“Tell me, Editha, is there no way of escape? Must we live out our dreary future, this poisoned arrow corroding in our hearts? Ah! if this terrible tale could be refuted.”
“But it cannot, Earle; there is no way but to bear it patiently,” she breathed.
“No, there is no other way, for I know that that man is my father, and that fact destroys our every hope. It is hard, my beloved; let me call you so once more; let me hold you close for the last time; let me kiss these dear lips, and touch this shining hair, and then I will go away as you wish. I will not add one pang to what I know you already suffer. Heaven bless you, my weary, stricken one—my lost love.”
With one strong arm he held her close against his almost bursting heart, while with his other hand he drew back the shining head until he could look down into the beautiful face that he felt might perhaps be looking his very last upon.
His lips lingered upon her hair, touched her forehead with tremulous tenderness, and then, with a sob wrung from the depths of his soul, he pressed one long, passionate kiss upon her lips, gently released her, stooped to pick up the ring she had wished him to have, and then strode from the room.
A fortnight later Earle Wayne had returned to Wycliffe sad, almost broken-hearted, and, at twenty-five, deeming life a burden too heavy to be borne.
CHAPTER XXXV
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
Editha Dalton and her father went to Newport—he to get all the pleasure out of life that he could by mingling in the sports of the gay world and spending his daughter’s money, she to bear with what submission she could the weary routine in which she had no heart, and which was but a mockery to her.