"I could not get away. There were some people to dinner;" and then, in
a softened voice, "How pale you look! Are you ill?"

"No, only a little tired."

After this there was silence, and the pair stood facing one another,
each occupied with their own thoughts, and each dreading to put them
into words. Once Philip made a beginning of speech, but his voice
failed him; the beating of his heart seemed to choke his utterance.

At length she leaned, as though for support, against the trunk of a
pine-tree, in the boughs of which the night breeze was whispering, and
spoke in a cold clear voice.

"You asked me to meet you here to-night. Have you anything to say to
me? No, do not speak; perhaps I had better speak first. I have
something to say to you, and what I have to say may influence whatever
is in your mind. Listen; you remember what passed between us nearly a
month ago, when I was so weak as to let you see how much I loved you?"

Philip bowed his head in assent.

"Very good. I have come here to-night, not to give you any lover's
meeting, but to tell you that no such words must be spoken again, and
that I am about to make it impossible that they should be spoken
either by you or by me. I am going away from here, _never_, I hope, to
return."

"Going away!" he gasped. "When?"