He paused for a moment, wiping away the moisture from his brow that earnestness had brought there.
Leonie straightened herself, and leaning forward, laid her hand upon his.
"I know that what you are saying to me is intended for my good alone," she cried, in a choked voice, "and from the bottom of my heart I thank you, but—I do not seem capable of thought to-night. I do not seem to understand. You are so good to me that I feel that I can ask anything of you, and therefore I beg that you will come to-morrow. Leave me this night, my first without—dad—to myself, and to-morrow——"
She could not complete the sentence, but turned away, hiding her quivering face upon her arm.
Pyne stood beside her, placing his arm about her.
"I have been cruel, but it was the only way to save you," he whispered. "Tell me that you forgive me?"
"There is nothing to forgive," she answered, lifting her dull eyes piteously. "If there should ever come a time when you feel that you have something to forgive me for, remember that what I shall do will always be for your good, will you not? Remember that however unworthy I may be, that I loved you with all my heart, and—— Oh, go! I beseech you, go! I am not myself! To-morrow——"
She did not finish the sentence, but raised herself to her full height, looked him in the face with a long, searching, hungry passion, lifted his hand to her hot, dry lips, and pressing a burning kiss upon it, passed hurriedly from the room.
He looked after her for a moment irresolutely, half tempted to follow.
"What does it mean?" he asked of himself. "Her manner was most singular. Poor little girl. She is almost mad from this grief and harassing. I wish I could have comforted her instead of adding to it. Well, I will see her to-morrow, and I will save her in spite of herself."