Ah! if I could at that moment have read what was written upon my love’s heart—if I could but have torn aside that veil of mystery enveloping her—if I could but have known the truth concerning that man I had found cold, stark and dead beneath the stars! How differently I would have acted.
I had thought that her love for me would induce her to tell me something of the past, yet as she stood in my embrace she was still persistent in her silence, until it seemed that she really feared lest, knowing the true facts, my affection might turn to hatred. I implored, I argued, I expressed profound regret to no avail. She would tell me nothing—absolutely nothing.
“I must suffer,” was her hard reply. “I am a woman who is the sport of circumstance. Yes,” she added, “I love you, Willoughby, but in a few hours will end my brief life of ecstasy. When I am dead—then will you know the reason why to-night my lips are sealed.”
At that instant a rap at the door caused me to release her quickly and spring aside.
A waiter who stood upon the threshold announced—
“Mr Logan, m’lady.”