To speak would only bring upon her grief and sorrow. Yes. Silence was best, after all, even though it cost him all that he held most dear in the world—best for her sake, and for his.
He took her white-gloved hand in his, and bowing over it till his lips touched its back, wished her a courtly addio.
“But how can I ever thank you sufficiently for saving me, Hubert?” she cried, addressing him by his Christian name, hot tears welling in her great dark eyes.
“I desire no thanks, Lola,” was his low, earnest reply. “If sometimes you remember me as your friend—as your most true, and most devoted friend—then that is an all-sufficient recompense for me.”
His voice trembled with emotion and she saw a strange expression at the corners of his mouth.
“But I will see you soon—to-morrow—eh? Where?” she said eagerly.
“No,” he answered briefly. “I am leaving Rome.”
“Leaving Rome!” she echoed in dismay.
“Yes. I am applying for transfer to another post. There are reasons why I cannot remain here any longer. I could not bear it. You know why.” And he looked her straight in the face, still holding her hand strongly in his.
She averted her gaze and sighed deeply.