“Yes; I think that perhaps you care more for me than I imagined,” she answered, endeavouring to preserve a calmness that was impossible. “But leave me and forget me, Stuart. I am worthless because I have fascinated you when I ought to have shunned you, knowing that our love can only bring us poignant bitterness.”
“Why? Tell me,” I gasped; then, half fearing the truth, I asked. “Are you already married?”
“No.”
“Then what barrier is there to our happiness?”
“One that is insurmountable,” she answered hoarsely, hot tears welling in her eyes. “The truth I cannot explain, as for certain reasons I am compelled to keep my secret.”
“But surely you can tell me the reason why we may not love? You cannot deny that you love me just a little,” I said.
“I do not deny it,” she answered in a low, earnest voice, raising her beautiful face to mine. “It is true, Stuart, that you are the only man I have looked upon with real affection, and I make no effort at concealment; nevertheless, our dream must end here. I have striven to stifle my passion, knowing full well the dire result that must accrue. But it is useless. Our misfortune is that we love one another; so we must part.”
“And you refuse to tell me the reason why you intend to break off our acquaintanceship,” I observed reproachfully.
“Ah, no!” she answered quickly. “You cannot understand. I dare not love you. A deadly peril threatens me. Ere six months have passed the sword which hangs, as it were, suspended over me may fall with fatal effect, but—but if it does, if I die, my last thought shall be of you, Stuart, for I feel that you are mine alone.”
I clasped her in my arms, and beneath the great tree where we were standing our lips met for the first time in a hot, passionate caress.