t have one. If she did, it would kill her. She would have had one
long ago if she could have. I know her. She thinks this will frighten
me. She thinks it will drive you away. Will it? It's a lie, do you hear
me, whatever she says. It's a lie, and she knows it. Ough!" He dropped
her left arm and pulled at his neck. "I can't stand this. You won't
leave me. You won't believe her, will you?"
Suzanne stared into his distraught face, his handsome, desperate,
significant eyes. She saw the woe there, the agony, and was sympathetic.
He seemed wonderfully worthy of love, unhappy, unfortunately pursued;
and yet she was frightened. Still she had promised to love him.
"No," she said fixedly, her eyes speaking a dramatic confidence.
"You won't leave here tonight?"
"No."
She smoothed his cheek with her hand.
"You will come and walk with me in the morning? I have to talk with
you."
"Yes."
"Don't be afraid. Just lock your door if you are. She won't bother you.
She won't do anything. She is afraid of me. She may want to talk with
you, but I am close by. Do you still love me?"
"Yes."
"Will you come to me if I can arrange it?"
"Yes."
"Even in the face of what she says?"
"Yes; I don't believe her. I believe you. What difference could it make,
anyhow? You don't love her."
"No," he said; "no, no, no! I never have." He drew her into his arms
wearily, relievedly. "Oh, Flower Face," he said, "don't give me up!
Don't grieve. Try not to, anyhow. I have been bad, as she says, but I
love you. I love you, and I will stake all on that. If all this must
fall about our heads, then let it fall. I love you."
Suzanne stroked his cheek with her hands nervously. She was deathly
pale, frightened, but somehow courageous through it all. She caught
strength from his love.
"I love you," she said.
"Yes," he replied. "You won't give me up?"
"No, I won't," she said, not really understanding the depth of her own
mood. "I will be true."
"Things will be better tomorrow," he said, somewhat more quietly. "We
will be calmer. We will walk and talk. You won't leave without me?"
"No."
"Please don't; for I love you, and we must talk and plan."
CHAPTER X
The introduction of this astonishing fact in connection with Angela was
so unexpected, so morally diverting and peculiar that though Eugene
denied it, half believed she was lying, he was harassed by the thought
that she might be telling the truth. It was so unfair,
|