And although he was feigning love and endeavouring to console her, yet there was no help for it—they were inseparable, their beings were knit together, their hearts were one.
She possessed the fatal power of fascination. He was under her spell.
With an effort to shake off the gloom that was possessing him, he spoke to her words of comfort.
She tried to reply, but a great sob choked her utterance.
Presently she released herself gently but firmly, saying—
“You must go, Hugh; you have been here too long, and I am not well to-day. I want to be alone.”
“Yes, you are right,” replied he woefully. “I ought not to have caused you this pain. I am to blame.”
Yet something of hope returned to him as he spoke, for she clasped her arms around his neck, and, clinging to him closely, fixed upon him a look of moving appeal.
Slowly she drew down his head towards her face, and then gave him a warm, passionate kiss.
“Good-bye, Hugh,” she said in a broken pleading voice. “Remember you have one who loves you more dearly than life.”