He seized her hands, his tears dropped on her fingers. "Oh Eva, Eva! God, who can read my heart--If you--oh! I feel such pity, such great, passionate pity for you. I would do I know not what--I would give my life if I--if you.... Poor, poor child!" She was standing up now, trembling, and as pale as death; her fingers clutched the table-cover, which slipped as she pulled it, and a glass vase, in which a few flowers were fading, was upset; the water trickled over the velvet cloth in great silvery beads. She let it flow into pools, staring at it with wide, terrified eyes, while he covered his face with his hands. "Bertie," she cried, "oh, Bertie! Why do you speak thus? What is it all? Tell me. Tell me everything. I must know. I desire you to speak out." His reply was a gesture--a perfectly natural gesture of deprecation, with no touch of theatrical insincerity, a gesture as though he would retract his words, and had said something he should have kept to himself; then he, too, rose, and his face had changed; its expression was no longer one of suffering or of pity, but of cool decision. "No, no. There is nothing to tell, Eva." "Nothing! And you could exclaim, 'Poor child!' And you pity me! Good God, but why? What is this--what evil threatens me?" She had Frank's name on her lips, but dared not utter it, and he was conscious of this. "Nothing, really and truly, nothing, dear Eva. I assure you, nothing. I sometimes have the most foolish thoughts, mere fancies. Look, the vase has fallen over." "But what were you thinking then--what fancies?" He wiped the water off the table-cloth with his pocket-handkerchief, and replaced the flowers in the glass. "Nothing; nothing at all," he murmured, huskily; he was tremulous with nervousness, and his tone was deeply compassionate, as if his words were meant to shroud some awful secret. Then, as he said no more, she sank on the sofa and broke into uncontrolled and passionate sobs, scared by the undefinable terror which rose up in her soul. "Eva, dear Eva, be calm!" he entreated her, fearing lest some one should come into the room. And then--then he knelt down close by her, taking her hands, and pressing them tenderly.