“Yes,” she answered, endeavouring vainly to restrain the sob which escaped her. “I know full well the life which must now be mine. Without you I shall not care to live.”
“Then why not allow me to assist you?” he urged. “Whatever may be the nature of your secret, tell me, and let me advise you. Together we will frustrate Zertho’s plans, whatever they may be.”
“Any such attempt would only place me in greater peril,” she pointed out.
“But surely you can rely on my secrecy?” he said. “Do I not love you?”
“Yes, but you would hate me if you knew the truth,” she whispered hoarsely. “Therefore I cannot tell you.”
“Your secret cannot be of such a nature as to cause that, Liane,” he said quietly.
“It is. Even if I told you everything your help would not avail me. Indeed, it would only bring to me greater pain and unhappiness,” she answered quickly.
“Our days of bliss have passed and gone, and with them all hope has vanished. They were full of a perfect, peaceful happiness, because you loved me with the whole strength of your soul, and I idolised you in return. Hour by hour the remembrance of those never-to-be-forgotten hours spent by your side comes back to me. I remember how quiet and peaceful the English village seemed after the noise, rattle and incessant chatter of a gay Continental town, how from the first moment we met, I, already world-weary, commenced a new life. But it is all past—all gone, and I have now only before me a world of bitterness and despair.” And she turned her pale face from his to hide the tears which welled in her eyes.
“You say you were world-weary,” he observed in a low tone. “I do not wonder at it now that I know of your past.”
“My past!” she gasped quickly. “What do you know of my past?”