I think I had seen this earlier; but I had thought
the struggle past when he came to me and begged me not to leave the city.
But perhaps, this time, I didn't understand him; perhaps I was simply
confused by his distress.
I thought he tried in vain to look away from me. Then he moved a step
nearer, slowly, as if reluctant. His face was haggard.
"Tell me why you are going."
I scarcely knew I spoke. It was as if some will independent of my own had
dictated the words. Yet I did not try to hide my heart's wish; it was too
late. He was my life, and in all but words--yes, and in words even--I told
him so. We had confessed our love. It was his right.
"Listen," I said. "If anything is--is wrong, I must know it. I--I
_must_ know it. Tell me. I must know everything. Ned, you must tell
me."
A vein stood out upon his forehead, but still he gazed silently at me.
After a time he said hoarsely:--
"I'm going because for your beauty I have thrown away the love of the
woman I was to marry. For you I have lost her, and yet--I loved Milly. My
God, I love her!"
Once he had begun, the words came with fierce swiftness.
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