He
started and turned to me a face of confusion--yes, and of worship. He
fumbled with a book on the table, and glanced toward the door as if he
would have left me. I saw that, but I didn't think--there was no time to
think, but I must have felt that a crisis had come that would decide our
lives. All the fear, all the sweet shame that I had felt before him
vanished. My heart beat wildly for happiness, but I was calm.
At last we were alone together!
I waited for him to speak. Slowly he turned as my questioning eyes had
willed. His were black with passion and grief. A look of pain contracted
his face, and he said, jerking the words out hoarsely:--
"I'm going away."
The suddenness of it almost took my breath. I had expected different
words. Indeed his eyes had shot another message; _they_ said that he
would never leave me!
Confused by lips that lied and eyes that confessed, I stammered:--
"Going--not going away? Why? Why should you go?"
I couldn't keep appeal out of my tone, and I could see him brace himself
to resist. I think I knew that, if he could, he meant to sacrifice our
love to John and Milly.
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