The storm that had been threatening through the day was now gathering to a head, and even as Edgar spoke the first flash came, the first distant peal of thunder sounded, the first heavy raindrops fell. There was evidently going to be a fearful tempest, and Edgar must leave now at once if he would not be in the thick of it before he reached home.
"Yes," said Leam, noting the change in the sky, and unselfish always, "you must go."
They rose and turned toward the house. Hand in hand they walked slowly across the lawn and entered the drawing-room by the way of the window, by the way by which she had entered twice before—once when she had disclaimed madame, and once when she had welcomed Josephine.
Tears were in her eyes: her heart had failed her.
"It is like losing you for ever," she said again.
"No, not for ever—only till to-morrow," he answered.
"To-morrow! to-morrow!" she replied. "There will be no to-morrow."
"Yes, yes: in a very few hours we shall have come to that blessed day," he said cheerfully. "Kiss me, darling, that I may carry away your sweetest memory till I see you again. You will kiss me, Leam, of your own free will to-night, will you not?" He said this a little tremulously, his arms round her.
"Yes," she answered, "I will kiss you to-night."