There was a pause. Then Santley stopped short, saying in a whisper—
“Go home now. After to-day we must not be seen together.”
But she clung to his arm, weeping.
“Charles, for Gods sake, do not be so unkind!”
“I am not unkind,” he said; “but I am thinking of your good name, as well as of my own reputation. What that woman knows others must know. It will be the talk of the place. Edith, think of it. We shall both be lost. Go home, I entreat you.”
“Charles, listen to me!” exclaimed the weeping girl. “If there is any scandal it will kill me. But there need to be none. You have only to keep your word, as you have promised, and then——”
“What? and marry you?”
“Yes.”
“I cannot—at least, not yet.”
“Why not? Oh, Charles, have I not been patient? There is nothing but your own will to come between us. Make me your wife, as you have promised, before it is too late. Even my aunt begins to suspect something. My life is miserable—a daily falsehood. I have loved you next to God. For your sake I have even forgotten Him. I thought there was no sin; you yourself told me there was no sin—that we were man and wife in God’s sight.. But now I am terrified. I cannot sleep,’ I cannot pray. Sometimes I feel as if God had cast me out. And you——”