"Is it true?" she cried suddenly. "It is for you to say. Douglas, it is you that must choose."
"No man can force belief," he said, dryly. "You will give me up? Poor child! You cannot, Theodora!"—smoothing her head with an unutterable pity.
"I will give you up, Douglas!"
"Think how dear I have been to you, how far-off you are from everybody in the world but me. Why, I know no woman so alone or weak as you, if I should leave you!"
"I know it,"—sobbing silently.
"You will stay with me, Theodora! Is the dull heaven Gaunt prates of, with its psalms and crowns, better than my love? Will you be happier there than here?"—holding her close, that she might feel the strong throb of his heart against her own.
She shivered.
"Theodora!"
She drew away; stood alone.
"Is it better?"—sharply.