woo the laugh to your lips, to win happiness back to your heart; to devote my life to you, darling. Have pity on me, have pity on my love,--have pity!" His voice dropped into a passionate whisper; as he pleaded with her, he sank down upon one knee by her side, beseeching by word and gesture and look that she should show him that pity he could see in her eyes, that he knew was in her heart, and to which he made his last appeal; and then, lifting the hem of her dress to his lips with an unconscious movement of passionate reverence, he waited. She looked at him in silence a moment. So young, so handsome, so appealing, her heart filled with sorrow and sympathy for him. There was hope in his eyes which she had not seen for many days; how could she drive it away and crush his heart! It might be cruel, but she had no answer, no other answer, no new word, to tell him. Her eyes filled with tears; she could not trust herself to speak, she only shook her head. "Ah," he said, rising to his feet and throwing up his hands with a gesture of despair, "I knew it. Well, the dream is over at last. This is the end. I sought life, and found death; that, at least, if it shall come I shall welcome. Would God I had gone down with the ship! You have no pity; you let a dead image--an idea--stand between you and a living love. Will you never forget?" "Never," she said softly. "Love knows no death. He is alive--here. But do not grieve so for me; I am not worth it. You will go away and forget, and--" "No; you have said it, 'Love knows no death.' I, too, cannot forget. As long as I live I shall love--and remember. How if I waited and waited? Katharine, I would wait forever for you," he said, suddenly catching at the trifle. "No, it would be no use. My friend, we both must suffer; it cannot be otherwise. I esteem you, respect you, admire you. You have protected me, honored me; my gratitude--" She went on brokenly, "You might ask anything of me but my heart, and that is given away." "Let me take you without it, then. I want but you." "No, Lord Desborough, it cannot be. Do not ask me again. No, I cannot say I wish it otherwise." His flickering hope died away in silence. "Katharine, will you promise me, if there ever comes a time--" "I promise," she said; "but the time will never come." He looked at her as dying men look to the light, there was a long silence, and then he said,-- "I must go now, Katharine. I suppose I must bid you good-by now?" "Yes, I think it would be best." "I shall pass this way again on my journey to Alexandria in half an hour; may I not speak once more to you then?" "No," she said finally, after a long pause. "I think it best that we should end it now. It can do no good at all. Good-by, and may God bless you." He bent and kissed her hand, and then stopped a moment and looked at her, saying never a word. "Good-by, again," she said. On the instant he turned and left her. CHAPTER XLI