"Return!" interrupted Corinne; "ah, you leave me then! How all is
changed since yesterday!"

"Dearest love," he replied, "be composed. It is necessary that I should
ascertain my father's reasons for opposing our union seven years ago. I
will hope for the best, Corinne; but if my father decides against you, I
will never be the husband of another, though I cannot be yours."

One night in Venice a few weeks later, when Corinne was leaving a scene
of festivity of which she had been the most brilliant ornament, Oswald
led her aside. She marked his paleness and agitation.

"What has happened?" she cried.

"I must start for England to-night. My regiment is about to embark for
the West Indies, and I am recalled to rejoin it."

"Ah!" moaned Corinne, "when I tell myself to-morrow 'I shall see him no
more,' the thought may kill me; happy am I if it does."

"Why do you fear? Is my solemn promise nothing?"

"Oh, I believe it; but listen--when you are in London, you will discover
that love promises bind not your honour. Will you find excuses in these
sophisms for inflicting a mortal wound on me? Cannot you at least pity
me for loving you thus?"

"Stay!" cried Oswald, seizing her in his arms, "this is too much.
Dearest, I cannot leave you!"