'Polly, come here! come to me, Polly!' for, overcome by a sudden revulsion of feeling, Polly had broken down, and hidden her face in her hands; and now a stifled sob reached Roy's ear. 'Polly, I dare not move, and I only want to ask you to forgive me,' in a remorseful voice; and the girl obeyed him reluctantly. 'What makes you so cruel to me?' she panted, looking at him with sad eyes, that seemed to pierce his selfishness. 'It is not my fault if you are so unhappy--if you will not get well.' 'Ask me no more; thy fate and mine are sealed.' The plaintive rhythm still haunted her. Was she, after all, so much to blame? Was she not suffering too? Why should he lay this terrible burden on her? It was selfish of him to die and leave her to her misery. Roy fairly quailed beneath the girl's indignation and passionate sorrow. 'Have I been so hard to you, Polly?' he said, humbly. 'Are men ever hard to the women they love? There, the murder is out. You must leave me, Polly; you must go back to Heriot. I am too weak to hide the truth any longer. You must not stay and listen to me,' pushing her away with weak force. It was his turn to be agitated now. 'Leave me!' he repeated, 'it is not loyal to Heriot to listen to a fool's maundering, which he has not the wit or the strength to hide. I should only frighten you with my vehemence, and do no good. Aunt Milly will be here directly. Leave me, I say.' But she only clung to him, and called him brother. Alas! how could she leave him! By and by he grew calmer. 'Forgive me, Polly; I am not myself; I ought not to have made you sing that song.' 'No, Rex,' in a voice scarcely audible. 'When you go back to Heriot you must tell him all. Ask him not to be hard on me. I never meant to injure him. The man you love is sacred in my eyes. It was only for a little while I hated him.' 'I will not tell him that.' 'Listen to me, dear! I ask his pardon, and yours too, for having betrayed myself. I have acted like a weak fool to-night. You were wiser than I, Polly.' 'There is nothing to forgive,' she returned, softly. 'Heriot will not be angry with you; he knows you are ill, and I--I will try to forget it. But you must get well, Rex; you will promise to get well for my sake.' 'Shall you grieve very much if I do not? Heriot would comfort you, if I did not, Polly.' She made an involuntary movement towards him, and then checked herself. 'Cruel! cruel!' she said, in a voice that sounded dead and cold, and her arms fell to her side. He melted at that. 'There, I have hurt you again. What a selfish wretch I am. I shall make a poor thing of life; but I will promise not to die if I can help it. You shall not call me cruel again, Polly.' Then she smiled, and stretched out her hand to him. 'I would not requite your goodness so badly as that. You could always do as you liked with me in the old days, Polly--turn me round your little finger. If you tell me to get well I suppose I must try; but the best part of me is gone.'