“My darling, what is the matter?” I cried.
“Hush, Denzil, not that name,” she replied faintly. “Oh, why were we spared? You must forget all that I told you, even as I shall forget your words. It was only a dream—a dream that is dead. We can be nothing to each other.”
I knew in my heart that she was right, but the sight of her beauty, the memory of her confession, put me in a rebellious mood. I drank what was left of the brandy, and rose dizzily to my feet.
“I will not give you up,” I said in a dogged tone. “You love me, Flora, and you are mine. Providence saved us for a purpose—to make us happy.”
She shook her head sadly.
“Denzil, why will you make is so hard for me?” she replied. “I must keep my promise—you know that. Be brave, be honorable. Forget what has happened!”
The appeal shamed me, and I averted my eyes from her. In my wretchedness I felt tempted to throw myself into the sea.
“Where are the rest?” she asked in a different voice.
“I fear they are all drowned,” I answered gloomily. “Fate has been less kind to us.”
“Do you know where we are?” she continued.