“I knew not why I had such a strong desire to come here,” he said “but now see clearly what drew me in this direction. The feeling to come was overpowering, and I could not resist it.”
They walked, and conversed of all the past, until finally, the question of so momentous interest to both was approached, and Ralph pleaded as none but a lover can.
A long silence ensued. Hope and fear, doubt and uncertainty, came and went, and every moment seemed to him an age.
Dawn at length turned her face slowly towards him, and then raised her eyes to heaven, as if imploring its aid. The deep working of her spirit was plainly depicted upon her features; first the conflict, then the triumph.
“I must walk alone. I love you, Ralph, as I have never loved before; but I have a mission on earth; one which I cannot share with another. To its service I dedicate my life.”
She sprang towards him, threw her arms for an instant around his neck; then, tearing herself away, was gone before he could fully realize what had happened.
Slowly the reality of what had occurred came upon him, like a storm more terrible for its slow approach.
“O, that I had not seen her to-day,” he said, “for then hope would have been left me. Now, all is over. With me life must be gone through with mechanically, not lived earnestly; happiness must be relinquished, peace and rest prayed for.”
When Marion and Edith came in search of him, the crisis of his great grief was past, but the white face showed it was not the Ralph who left them.
“Why, you are ill; what has happened?” was his sisters' ejaculation.