“Ah, no!” I cried in quick protest. “Don’t say that. I love you with a fierce, ardent affection such as few men have within their hearts. If you will but reciprocate that love, then I swear that the remainder of my life shall be devoted to you.”
“It is impossible,” she responded in a harsh, despairing voice, quite unlike her usual self. Her head was bowed, as though she dare not again look into my face.
Once more I caught her hand, holding it within my grasp. It seemed to have grown cold, and in an instant its touch brought back to me the recollection of that fatal night in Kensington. Would that I might lay bare all that I knew, and ask her for an explanation. But to do so would be to show that I doubted her; therefore I was compelled to remain silent.
“Why impossible?” I inquired persuasively. “The many times we have met since our first introduction have only served to increase my love for you. Surely you will not withhold from me every hope?”
“Alas!” she faltered, with a downward sweep of her lashes, her hand trembling in mine, “I am compelled.”
“Compelled?” I echoed. “I don’t understand. You are not engaged to Langdale?”
“No.”
“Then why are you forced to give me this negative answer?” I asked in deep earnestness, for until then I had not known the true strength of my love for her.
The seriousness of her beautiful countenance relaxed slightly, still her breast slowly heaved and fell, plainly showing the agitation within her.
“Because it is absolutely imperative that I should do so,” she replied.