und his with nervous
force. She was afraid to loosen her clasp, lest he should leave her
again.

"Ah, Norton! you have been away so long, so long!"

"Has that made you more unhappy, Rachael?"

"More unhappy? God help me! have I any happiness beyond your presence?"

"I sometimes think that we two might be less--"

Lord Hope paused. The hand in his seemed turning to marble.

"In mercy, do not say that, Norton! Surely you cannot return love like
mine with hate so cruel!"

"We will not talk of hate, Rachael. It is an unseemly word."

"But you are angry with me?"

"No, the time has gone by when I can be angry with you, Rachael."

"Oh! have some mercy upon me, Norton, and tell me how I have lost your
love--for you did love me."

"God only knows how well!" answered the man, with a throe of bitter
passion breaking up the calm he had maintained.

"Tell me, then--tell me again! It is so long since I have had a happy
thought! I will not be put off so! Now that you are here, in this room,
with my hand in yours, I will not let you go! Tell me, Norton--oh, tell
me why it is that you have changed so completely? This question haunts
me. I dream of it in the night; I think of it all day long. Answer me.
Though the truth cleave my heart, I would rather hear it! Why have you
ceased to love me? Why is it that you can leave me so?"

"Rachael, I will answer you so far as this: I have not ceased to love
you."

The woman uttered a cry, and fell down upon her knees at her husband's
feet, in a storm of wild and happy tears. He raised her up, bent forward
as if to kiss her, but drew back with a heavy sigh. She felt him recoil,
and the shudder which chilled him reached her also.

"You love me, and yet shrink from my touch! Ah, me! what has dug this
gulf between us?"

"It is the work of our own hands," he said, with strong emotion. "It is
your curse and mine that we must love each other, Rachael--love each
other, and yet be apart."

"Apart! Oh! will there be no end--no season--"

"Yes, Rachael, when we can both repent that we ever did love each other.
Then, perhaps, a merciful God may forgive us the great sin which has
been our happiness and our torment."

"But you love me? You _do_ love me?"

"A thousand times better than my own miserable life!"

"And you speak of torment! Who shall ever dare say that word again to
Rachael Closs? When they do, I will answer, 'He loves me! he loves me!'"

The woman sprang up, exulting. H