It is nothing. I wish for another life--but with
you--with you. Have you one word of hope to give me?"
He saw his answer already.
"I cannot--I cannot," she said, with downcast eyes, and obviously in
such deep distress that his heart smote him.
"It is enough," said he. "I--I was a fool to deceive myself with such
imaginings--that are far beyond me. You will forgive me, Miss Honnor; I
did not wish to cause you any pain; why, what harm is done except that I
have been too presumptuous and too frank--and you will forget that. Tell
me you forgive me!"
He held out his hand; she took it for a moment; and for another moment
he held hers in a firm grasp.
"If I could tell you," he said, in a low voice, "what I thought of
you--what every one thinks of you--you might perhaps understand why I
have dared to speak."
She withdrew her hand quickly; her mother was at the door. When Lady
Cunyngham came into the room, her daughter was apparently turning over
those photographs and engravings. Lionel went forward to the elder lady
to pay his respects; there was a brief conversation, introduced by Miss
Honnor, about Mr. Moore's generous proposal to sing at any charitable
concert they might be interested in; and then, as soon as he could,
Lionel said good-bye, left the house, and passed into the outer
world--where the dusk of the December afternoon was coming down over the
far wastes of sea.
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