I shook my head. There was one thing which I had to tell. Could any man be found to forgive that?
“I came back here resolved to tell you all. If I could not ask for your love, Kitty, I might, at the very least, win your pity.”
“What have you to tell me, my lord?”
It was well that the night was so dark that my face could not be seen. Oh, telltale cheeks, aglow with fear and joy!
“What have you to tell me?” I repeated.
“It is a story which I trust to your eyes alone,” he said. “I have written it down. Before we part to-night I will give it to you. Come”—he took my hand again, but his was cold—“come, we must not stay longer. Let me lead you from this slippery and dangerous place.”
“One moment”—I would have lingered there all night to listen to the accents of his dear voice. “If you, my lord, have a secret to tell to me, I also have one to tell you.”
“Nay,” he replied. “I can hear none of your pretty secrets. My peace is already destroyed. Besides,” he added desperately, “when you have read what I have written you will see that it would be idle to waste another thought upon me.”
“I will read it,” I said, “to-night. But, my lord, on one promise.”
“And that is?”