She did not speak.
"If I only knew what the answer would be!"
She smiled, and gave him another glance out of her black eyes.
The colour mounted to his forehead.
"You won't keep me in suspense much longer?" he said. "You will let me know my fate, won't you, as soon as I come back?"
For the first time she bent her eyes on him fully and steadily. "Yes, Mr. Van Duren," she said, "you shall know your fate when you get back from the Continent."
Before she knew what he was about to do, he had seized her hand and pressed it passionately to his lips. She shuddered from head to foot as she withdrew it from his grasp. Bakewell knocked and entered. "Your hansom is at the door, sir, and you have only just time to catch the train."
Van Duren arose and made his adieux. "Your father still seems very weak and feeble," he said, in a low voice, to Miriam, as he stood for a moment at the door. "I am afraid that the warm weather has not done much to benefit him."
"Will anything in this world ever do much to benefit him," she answered. Then there was a last shake of the hand, and then she watched him go downstairs. As soon as she heard the front door clash she ran to the window, and waved him a last adieu as he was driven away. "Shall I ever see him again, I wonder?" she whispered to herself "I hope not."
"Farewell, Max Jacoby, otherwise Van Duren!" cried Byrne, as he took off his wig and flung it across the room. "When next we meet it will be under very different circumstances."