“Your doubt wounds my heart!” exclaimed Lotte, with evident pain. “I will not reiterate what I have confessed to you on that point. I will only add that I would have cheerfully married you, and joined in our mutual support by my own labour, if such had been needful; I would have done it with the proudest content, had circumstances been such that I could have entered your family as an equal. This cannot be. I see the disparity more strongly now, perhaps, than even he who has forbidden me to approach his affinity; but, Mark, I could not consent to become your wife and his daughter on other terms than your continued friendship with him, without incurring contumely myself. It is wholly impossible to change my opinions on this point; so Mark, dear Mark, let us bid each other farewell. I am faint—oppressed—ill. I would part with you at once——”
“And for ever!” said Mark, with burning eyes, as he forced the words through his teeth.
She bowed her head.
“For ever!” she repeated.
“Lotte!” he exclaimed, with intense excitement, “I cannot argue this point with you—I cannot. I will not bid you farewell—I dare not; yet, girl, we shall never, never meet again!”
He almost shrieked those last words, and rushed out of the room.
She would have followed him, but that she sank gasping and fainting upon the floor.