"Do not vex me," she resumed, in a pained tone; "do not seek to turn me from my duty. I—I—though I scarcely like to speak of these sacred things, Gerard—I have put my hand to the plough: even you cannot turn me back."
He did not answer; he only played with the hand he held between both of his.
"Tell me one thing, Gerard: it will be safe. Was not the dispute about Frances Chenevix?"
He contracted his brow; and nodded.
"And you could refuse her! You must learn to love her, for she would make you a good wife."
"Much chance there is now of my making a wife of any one!"
"Oh, this will blow over in time: I feel it will. Meanwhile——"
"Meanwhile you destroy every hopeful feeling I thought to take with me to cheer me in my exile," was his impatient interruption. "I love you alone, Alice; I have loved you for months, nay years, truly, fervently; and I know that you must have seen that I did."
"Love me still, Gerard," she softly answered; "but not with the love you would give to one of earth: the love you will give—I hope—to Frances Chenevix. Think of me as one rapidly going; soon to be gone."
"Oh, not yet!" he cried in an imploring tone, as if it were to be as she willed.