" he asked, sadly, a mist of woe
clouding his whole being.

"I think it ought to be, perhaps, Eugene," she replied, still evasively.
"It's very trying. I will be faithful to you, though. I promise you that
I will not change. Don't you think we can wait a year? We can, can't
we?"

"A whole year without seeing you, Suzanne?"

"Yes, it will pass, Eugene."

"A whole year?"

"Yes, Eugene."

"I have nothing more to say, Mrs. Dale," he said, turning to her mother
solemnly, a sombre, gloomy light in his eye, his heart hardening towards
Suzanne for the moment. To think she should treat him so--throw him
down, as he phrased it. Well, such was life. "You win," he added. "It
has been a terrible experience for me. A terrible passion. I love this
girl. I love her with my whole heart. Sometimes I have vaguely suspected
that she might not know."

He turned to Suzanne, and for the first time he thought that he did not
see there that true understanding which he had fancied had been there
all the time. Could fate have been lying to him also in this? Was he
mistaken in this, and had he been following a phantom lure of beauty?
Was Suzanne but another trap to drag him down to his old nothingness?
God! The prediction of the Astrologer of a second period of defeat after
seven or eight years came back.

"Oh, Suzanne!" he said, simply and unconsciously dramatic. "Do you
really love me?"

"Yes, Eugene," she replied.

"Really?"

"Yes."

He held out his arms and she came, but for the life of him he could not
dispel this terrible doubt. It took the joy out of his kiss--as if he
had been dreaming a dream of something perfect in his arms and had
awaked to find it nothing--as if life had sent him a Judas in the shape
of a girl to betray him.

"Do let us end this, Mr. Witla," said Mrs. Dale coldly, "there is
nothing to be gained by delaying. Let us end it for a year, and then
talk."

"Oh, Suzanne," he continued, as mournful as a passing bell, "come to the
door with me."

"No, the servants are there," put in Mrs. Dale. "Please make your
farewells here."

"Mama," said Suzanne angrily and defiantly, moved by the pity of it, "I
won't have you talk this way. Leave the room, or I shall go to the door
with him and further. Leave us, please."

Mrs. Dale went out.

"Oh, Flower Face," said Eugene pathetically, "I can't believe it. I
can't. I can't! This has been managed wrong. I should have taken you
long ago. So it is to end this way.