At length, as the time approached for his departure and found her unmoved, he became angry, and gave way to cruel reproaches. “You have deceived me, Miss Rosenthal. You have played the part of a heartless coquette. You do not love me and you have never done so.” “Oh, Eastworth, I love you more than life! Heaven truly knows I do!” she said, through her sobs. “Words, words, words! You can talk of love glibly enough. No doubt you could write what school misses would call ‘sweet verses’ on the theme; but you cannot feel it, Erminie.” “Oh, Eastworth, I would sacrifice my life to save you if I could. Heaven truly knows that I would!” “Words, words, words again! All that is easily said. You would sacrifice your life to save me. It is very safe to promise that, since no such sacrifice can possibly be required of you. You will sacrifice your life, which nobody asks you to do, but you will not go with me when I leave this place a fugitive—you will not go with me, though I implore you to do it.” “It is because it would be wrong for me to do so, and I dare not do wrong.” “Words, words, words!” he said again, with bitter scorn. “Farewell, Miss Rosenthal.” And he got up and strode toward the door. Quick as light she flew before him, intercepted him and clasped him in her arms. “Oh, don’t—don’t go! Spare yourself! Oh, Eastworth! oh, my love, spare yourself!” she cried, almost beside herself. “Will you go with me?” he stooped and whispered. “No, never! I dare not do wrong!” “Then let me go alone, false-hearted girl!” he cried, tearing off her clasping arms and flinging her from him with such force that she fell upon the floor. He rushed up into his room, rang for his servant, sent out and ordered a carriage, and while waiting for it hastily packed up his most valuable effects, and as soon as it came to the door he entered it and drove to the station in time to catch the train for Alexandria and Orange. Some minutes after the carriage had rolled away, Elfrida chanced to come down to the drawing-room, and there she found Erminie lying upon the floor in a swoon. In great alarm she rang for assistance, and then flew to the side of her friend and raised her up. Erminie opened her eyes, and, recognizing Elfrida, burst into tears and sobbed passionately. “Don’t cry—they are not worth tears,” said Elfie. “Oh, Elfrida! oh, Elfrida! If you knew—if you knew!” sobbed Erminie. “I know all about it. I saw Colonel Eastworth drive away in a cab, with all his luggage packed in and around it. And I know that your lover has gone to help my lover to plot against the safety of the city. But, thank goodness, I have been beforehand with them.” At this moment Catharine opened the door and came in. “Did you ring, miss?” she inquired. “Yes—more coal,” said Elfie, with great presence of mind. And when the girl had gone, Elfie whispered to her friend: “Keep a stiff upper lip; never say die; don’t let the servants see us fret.”