He went on passionately: ‘Every word he says to me stabs me. Every time I look at his honest, unsuspicious face I feel—surely you must know what I feel! I’m not quite a brute yet! And later, when you are his wife—do you think it would be possible for me to go on living within a stone’s throw—to see you every day—to keep up the farce of friendship? What do you think I am made of?’ Her face was set like marble; only the eyes moved. After a long pause she whispered: ‘Will you—ever come back?’ ‘Who knows?’ he answered with a harsh laugh. ‘Some time perhaps—when I am quite old—when I can no longer feel.’ She put her hand before her eyes, and then let it drop. Richard saw the irrepressible anguish in them, and his face changed. He threw up his arms suddenly with a kind of a sob: ‘I will not go—if you tell me to stay!’ For a moment longer the agonised eyes looked down into his, and he thought he saw her waver; but it was only for a moment. Her lips moved, at first without emitting any sound, but presently mastering herself, she said firmly: ‘No, I tell you to go—it is right for you to go.’ ‘Good-bye,’ said Richard hoarsely. ‘Good-bye,’ faltered Rosalie; and then there came a great sob: ‘God bless you!’ He turned as if to leave her, but wheeling round, looked back. ‘Am I to have nothing? Am I to be sent away without so much as a clasp of the hand?’ She had vanished from the window, and for a moment he stood holding his breath; would she come down to him—would she meet him at the door? But within all was silent. ‘She will not come,’ he said to himself; and once more went on his way, staggering blindly forward, with his head sunk upon his breast. Had he looked back again he might have seen her creep to the window and kneel by it, straining her eyes through streaming tears. Poor Rosalie! Poor Beauty! Did she wake at last only to look upon the vanishing form of her Prince? * * * Later in the day Isaac Sharpe came to Littlecomb in great perturbation of mind. He found Rosalie lying on the couch in the parlour, the blind being drawn down—she had a headache, she said. ‘Dear heart alive!’ said Isaac, sitting down, a hand on either knee. ‘Everything d’ seem to be goin’ wrong this day! Here’s my nevvy gone off wi’ himself!’ ‘Gone?’ echoed Rosalie, faintly, turning her face to the wall. ‘’Ees, took himself off this morning wi’out a word to anyone, and left this here bit of a note for to explain. I bain’t much of a hand at letter readin’, but Bithey did read it for me, and he does n’t seem to give no excuse at all, except that he were feelin’ restless. He says he al’ays told me he were a rover, and could n’t settle down, and now the travellin’ fit have come on him and he felt he must be off. And he thanks me very handsome, and he tells me he don’t know where he be a-goin’ to yet, but when he does he’ll write and let me know where to send his luggage. And that’s all.’