Then the red burned upon her cheeks—she would have turned away.
“Don't go! Don't leave me—you must not! Not until I know!”
He caught one of her hands into his own and held it firmly, but she offered no resistance.
“You must tell me now—now,” he said. “I can wait no longer, Margaret!—Margaret!”
“What shall I tell you?” she asked in tones so low he could scarcely hear. It gave him courage as hers seemed to ebb, for she was pale and trembling.
“That you love me!” he cried, “that you love me, Margaret! That you love me and will be my wife.” And he drew her into his arms. “Margaret! Margaret!” repeating her name in an ecstacy of delight. “Is it so? Do you love me, dear?”
She put up her hand appealingly as if she entreated him to say no more.
Slowly he loosed his arms from about her and she sank down into a chair, while Franz regarded her with a troubled brow.
“Let me think!” she gasped. “Oh! let me think!” Then sadly: “I have lost my friend. I am so sorry—so sorry.”
“Yes,” Franz answered steadily, “you must choose now and forever between your friend and your lover.”