“Would I accept it? Oh, Heaven grant me but this one boon, and no sacrifice would be too great to testify my gratitude!”
“My friend,” he whispered, bending nearer, so that his own dark locks mingled with hers. “Listen. Prepare yourself for the change, and your wish shall be gratified. I pledge you my word that it shall be so.”
“Will you? Oh, thanks, thanks!”
She dropped her laces all in a heap upon the floor, and clasping her hands impulsively around his arm, bowed her dainty head, and sobbed like a child.
Ralph Moulton quivered in every nerve beneath her touch, and the color mounted hotly to his brow. He thought to clasp her in his arms and comfort her, dry her tears, and win back her smile.
But he dared not do it; from his very soul he respected this pure girl, and felt himself unworthy even to touch her robes. If he had not made that rash vow, or even if he had not had this last interview with Dora, all would be well.
He began to feel as if the net he had spread for others was becoming entangled about himself, and the chains which he had prepared for our heroine were beginning to gall him severely.
Cupid was busy at work, but—would he win?
Enid Chichester wept unrestrainedly for a few moments. The hope was so unexpected, she had schooled her heart so long to bear her lot, that this sudden rift in the clouds, revealing the brightness beyond, was too dazzling to her sorrow-shadowed soul, wholly overpowering her.
At last she started suddenly, and said, in a quivering, grateful voice: