“Oh, no,” answered Jack, “I presume it is because you are so deeply interested in your mother’s recovery, but I should like to believe that this is not the only reason. I should like to feel that you entertain an interest in me personally, although you must repent of it after we separate to-day, for doubtless I shall drift entirely out of your life. Perhaps that is your wish, and perhaps it is best that it be so.”
A blush came to Ethel’s face. She walked on silently at his side.
“Don’t talk like that,” she finally said, in girlish reprimand, “it makes me think that you are disagreeable. I shall always remember you.” She laughed a little as she said this, and looked archly up at Jack.
“Remember me!” said Jack, as he turned toward her under the shading branches of an elm that stood near the shore of the lake. “Yes, I should like to believe that you would remember me, but you cannot. Not only is your destiny marked out for you, but even your friends have been chosen for you, and I am not on the list. No difference what your personal wishes may be at this time, you will soon forget me.”
There was an earnestness approaching sternness in his voice.
“You are very cross to-day,” said Ethel, sadly, “very cross, indeed. I could not forget you, even if I were to try, and I do not think it kind of you to say so.”
“Are you quite sure?” inquired Jack, half rapturously.
She raised her eyes to his, and after a moment said, “I am sure. But what difference can it make to you? I shall never see you again.”
Jack could not reply at once. He turned partly away and looked out across the waters. As Ethel glanced at him she saw that his face was ashen. She feared that he was vexed and would again say something cross to her. She remembered the feeling that had come over her once before when she was with him. At the sight of his sad face her thoughts became those of pity; and she fell to wondering why friends have to part. She came close to his side, and, laying a hand on his arm, said, pleadingly, “You must not be angry with me to-day; indeed you must not. Why, your arm is shaking as if you were cold.”
“Yes,” replied Jack, in a low, trembling voice. “Oh, Ethel, Ethel, can you not see—can you not understand that I love you? My heart is beating for you with fierce hammer strokes through every fibre of my being. I have no words to express myself, but I know, yes, before God, I know that I love you better than my own life.”