'It is not pity—you are sure of that? It is nothing that my mother has said? Audrey, if I thought that, I would rather die than take advantage of you. Tell me, dear'—and the pleading of his eyes was almost more than she could bear—'you would not so humiliate me?'
'No, Cyril, I would not.'
His name came so naturally to her, she hardly knew she said it; but a gleam of joy passed over the young man's face as he heard it, and the next moment he drew her towards him.
Audrey took it all quite simply; she listened to her young lover's passionate protestation of gratitude, half shyly, half happily. The reverence with which he treated her touched her profoundly; he did not overpower her with the force of his affection. After the first few moments of agitated feeling he had quieted himself and her.
'I must not try you too much,' he said. 'If I were to talk for an hour I could never make you understand how happy I am. It is a new existence; it is wonderful. Yesterday I was so tired of my life, and to-day—to-day, Audrey——'
'I am happy, too,' she said, in a soft, contented voice. 'All these weeks have been so miserable; I seemed to miss you so—but you would have nothing to say to me. Do you remember that evening when you took my queen? Oh, how unhappy I was that night! And you saw it, and went away.'
'I did not go far,' he returned, taking possession of one hand—the soft white hand that lay so quietly in his. 'It was the only thing I could do for you—to keep out of your sight as much as possible. I walked up and down the road like a sentinel for hours; it did not seem possible to go home and sleep. I felt as though I never wanted to sleep again. I could only think of you in your white gown as you sat opposite to me, and how your hand trembled, and how cold it felt when I said good-night. I thought it was all your goodness, and because you were sorry for me. Were you beginning to care for me a little even then, my darling?'
'I do not know,' she answered gently. 'You must not question me too closely. I hardly understand myself how it has all come about.'
'No,' he returned, looking at her with a sort of worship in his eyes—the worship with which a good, true woman will sometimes inspire a man, and which makes their love a higher education; 'it is all a miracle. I am not worthy of you; but you shall see—you shall see how dearly I shall prize this precious gift.'
And then for a moment they were both silent.