She is silent.
"Olga, Olga, were you in the library while----?"
She nods.
"And you heard all,--everything?"
"Yes."
"Olga!" His eyes are riveted upon her face in what is almost horror.
"Olga,--what now?"
"I cannot bear to see you suffer," she murmurs, scarce audibly.
Did he extend his arms to her? He could not himself tell; but what he has dreamed has happened,--he clasps her to his breast, his lips meet hers; his anguish is past; wings seem to be given him wherewith to soar to heaven.
But only for an instant is he thus beguiled; then reality in its full force bursts upon him. He unclasps the dear arms from his neck, presses one last kiss upon the girlish hand before he releases it, and then turns and walks away with a firm tread, without looking round, and in the full consciousness of the truth,--the consciousness that no wings are his, and that the heavy burden which has weighed him down is doubly heavy now.