step or two toward the door. With one hand upon the lock he pauses
once more, gazing at Enrica with lingering eyes. Then he turns to
leave the room. It is all over!--he had only to depart! A low cry from
Enrica stops him.

"Nobili," Enrica says, "tell me--oh! tell me, are you hurt?"

Enrica has risen from the chair. One hand rests on the table for
support. Her voice falters as she asks the question. Nobili, every
drop of whose blood runs fevered in his veins, turns toward her.

"I am not hurt--a scratch or two--nothing."

"Thank God!" Enrica utters, in a low voice.

Nobili endeavors to approach her. She draws back.

"As I am here"--he speaks with the utmost embarrassment--"here, as you
see, by accident"--his voice rests on the words--"I cannot go--"

As Nobili speaks he perceives that Enrica gradually retreats farther
from him. The tender delight that had come into her eyes when he first
addressed her fades out into a scared look--a look like a defenseless
animal expecting to receive a death-wound. Nobili sees and understands
the expression.

His heart smites him sorely. Great God!--has he become an object of
terror to her?

"Enrica!"--she starts back as Nobili pronounces her name, yet he
speaks so softly the sound comes to her almost like a sigh--"Enrica,
do not fear me. I will say no word to offend you. I cannot go without
asking your pardon. As one who loved you once--as one who loves--"
He stops. What is he saying?--"I humbly beseech you to forgive me.
Enrica, let me hear you say that you forgive me."

Still Enrica retreats from him, that suffering, saint-like look upon
her face he knows so well. Nobili follows her. He kneels at her feet.
He kneels at the feet of the woman from whom, not an hour before, he
had demanded a separation!

"Say--can you forgive me before I go?"

As Nobili speaks, his strong heart goes out to her in speechless
longings. If Enrica had looked into his eyes they would have told her
that he never had loved her as now! And they were parted!

Enrica puts out her hand timidly. Her lips move as if to speak, but no
sound comes. Nobili rises; he takes her hand within both his own. He
kisses it reverently.

"Dear hand--" he murmurs, "and it was mine!"

Released from his, the dainty little hand falls to her side. She
sighs deeply. There is the old charm in Nobili's voice--so sweet, so
subtile. The tones fall upon her ear like strains of passionate music.
A storm of emotion sweeps