“What?” said Sedgwick sharply. “Of dread? What do you do here, then?”
“Suffer,” said she. Then bit her lips. “No! No! I didn’t mean it. It is only that the mystery of it—I am unstrung and weak. To-morrow all will be right. Only go.”
“I will,” said Sedgwick firmly. “And you shall go with me.”
“I! Where?”
He caught her hand again and held it to his heart. “To
“‘See the gold air and the silver fade
And the last bird fly into the last light’,”
he whispered.
“Don’t!” she begged. “Not that! It brings back that week too poignantly. Oh, my dear; please, please go.”
“Listen,” he said. “Heart of my heart, I don’t know what curse hangs over this house; but this I do know, that I can not leave you here. Come with me now. I will find some place for you to-night, and to-morrow we will be married.”
With a sharp movement she shrank back from him.