“I know you will never allow anyone to take Hugh’s place,” he said humbly, “but you need some one to protect you and help you to fight on. I can only offer you my love, and I will devote my life to you. But I fear I am hurting you.”
She had half risen with a look of horror on her face, but sank back again.
“You don’t understand, Doctor, and you are very kind, especially as you alone know how I really am, a nameless wife, but you do not realise. I am Italian, and I love but once. Whatever you think of Hugh, I can never forget him and the very thought of marrying again is like committing a foul crime.”
Halley was one of those rare beings who can love and sacrifice. Whatever he felt, no sign appeared.
“Then you must allow me to be your protector only,” he said, with a smile which hardly hid his pain.
She was quick to see it. “You are a true friend, and I am afraid I have hurt you horribly. Believe me I do feel deeply for you, and am so grateful for all you have done. Anything I can do to return your friendship, I will do.” She stopped there, and he understood.
Chapter VIII.
Roy at Oxford
Doctor Halley grew old in his service for Carlotta, ungrudging and without hope of reward. His hair grew white, and the road to Murano became heaviness to him, but he never complained. As soon as the boy was old enough he quietly took over his education, and watched with growing anxiety the change that was taking place in Carlotta.
She never referred to the past, but seemed to live only for the child, and would gaze expectantly down the garden path, as though she still held a lingering hope. Her beauty paled, and she was more and more withdrawing herself from the world.
Halley grieved in secret, but his devotion was deeper than admiration, and his loyal service continued through these years.