If you
love me, go--if you love me."
Even now he hardly fathomed her distress, but she had made him
understand that this spot and this time were too dangerous.
"Tell me where I can see you safely," he asked, almost demanded.
"You can see me safely--nowhere."
"Nowhere? You mean that you won't----"
"Harry, come here a minute--there--no closer. I just want to be
able to touch your hair. Go away, dear--yes, I said `dear.'
Do please go away. You--you won't be any happier afterward for
having--if--if you don't go away."
He stood irresolutely still. Her fingers lightly touched his
hair, and then her arm dropped at her side. He saw a tear run
down her cheek. Suddenly his own face turned crimson.
"I'm--I'm very sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean----"
"Good-night. I'm going in."
She held out her hand. Again he bent and kissed it, and, as he
did so, he felt the light touch of her lips among his hair.
"I'm such a foolish, foolish woman," she whispered, "but you're a
gentleman, Harry," and she drew her hand away and left him.
Two days later she took her children off to the seaside. And the
Mortimers never came back to Natterley. She wrote and told Mrs.
Sterling that George wanted to be nearer his work in town, and
that they had gone to live at Wimbledon.
"How we shall miss her!" exclaimed good Mrs. Sterling. "Poor
Harry! what'll he say?"
III.
One day, at Brighton, some six years later, a lady in widow's
weeds, accompanied by a long, loose-limbed boy of fourteen, was
taking the air by the sea.
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