"And, believe me, I shall be happiest when I think that you are
happy--for you will be happy."

She sighed so deeply that the words were checked upon his lips, as if
some new emotion had turned the current of his thought.

"Are you _not_ happy?"

The tears that, in spite of her endeavor, burst from beneath the
downcast lids, answered him as words could not have done. He was
agitated and unnerved, and, leaning his brow against his hand, remained
silent while she wept.

"Harold is a noble fellow," he said at last, after a long silence, and
when she had grown calmer, "and deserves to be loved as I am sure you
love him."

"Oh, he has a noble heart, and I would die rather than cause him pain."

"And you love him?"

"I thought I loved him."

The words were faint--hardly more than a breath upon her lips; but he
heard them, and his heart grew big with an undefined awe, as if some
vague danger were looming among the shadows of his destiny. Oriana
turned to him suddenly, and clasped his hand within her trembling
fingers.

"Oh, Mr. Wayne! you must go, and never see me more. I am standing on the