She turns, and gives him her hand. He looks at her long, and the blue eyes grow misty, the fire and anger die out. He bends suddenly forward and touches her fingers with his lips. He does not speak another word, only drops her hand and goes.
The echo of his footsteps dies away. The door closes with a heavy sound. With a stifled sob Lauraine falls on her knees, and leans her head against the low railings of the flower-covered balcony.
"Dear Heaven! how hard it is to do right!" she moans.
The wind stirs the pine boughs, and the stars shine calmly down. They have seen so much of trouble, have heard so much despair, and to them a human life is such a little space to sorrow in, or be glad.
CHAPTER XVI
Cry, O lover,
Love is over.
When Lady Etwynde comes back, she finds Lauraine lying cold and insensible on the little balcony.
In great alarm she tries to recover her to consciousness, and at last succeeds. With a heavy sigh the dark eyes open, and Lauraine rises and goes back to her low lounge by the window, and there lies faint, white, and exhausted, while, with a great and tender pity, her friend hovers about, speaking soothing words, and asking nothing of the cause of this strange fainting fit. She can guess it well enough. Half an hour passes. Then Lauraine lifts her head with a little languid smile.
"You must think me very foolish," she says.