“Nay, ’tis nothing, I protest.—And yet you must know too soon. Why not from me? Who has such love for you as I have? who can feel for you as I can? who would try so fondly to console?” “You are right, Everell; let me hear it from you! Oh, speak, dear!” “’Tis—only this, sweetheart,” he said, when he could command his voice: “we are to part soon. I am going away.” “Soon? How soon? Certainly, you must go to France—but not yet.” “Ay, that is it, dear: I must go, I know not how soon. Perhaps—this very night.” “This night? Impossible! You have said nothing to me of going—’tis too unexpected!” “Forgive me, dear,” he pleaded, simply. “I wished not to cloud our happiness with any thought of separation; so I never spoke of—my day of departure.” “Nay, but I must have time—to strengthen my heart! And we have arranged nothing yet—in regard to meeting again—no particulars. There is everything to be discussed before you go. This separation—how long is it to last?” Her voice and eyes were on the verge of tears. “Longer, dear, than I have the heart to tell!—Oh, sweet, forgive, forgive me! When I bargained for one blissful week, ’twas only of myself I thought—I weighed my happiness against only the price _I_ was to pay. I considered not what you might feel—that a week might turn your fancy into love, and make our parting as cruel for you as for me. Forgive me, dearest, and charge the sin to my love of you—my unthinking, inconsiderate love!” “Nay, dear, there is nothing to forgive,” she said, with sorrowful compassion. “Parting will be hard—heaven knows it will!—but I must set my thoughts on our next meeting. The separation will be—somewhat long, do you say?—ah, that’s sad to hear. How long, Everell?” He turned his face from her. “Speak, Everell,” she pleaded; “how long?—a year?” “Longer than that,” he whispered. “Longer!—oh, pity me, heaven!” Besides the doors at either end of this dining-parlour, to the library and the hall, there was at one side a third, which led to the drawing-room. This door now opened, and Lady Strange appeared: seeing the lovers, she closed it gently behind her. They stood clinging to each other, with looks sorrowful and distraught. “You have told her, then?” she said, in a tone softened by compassion. “Almost,” replied Everell; and Georgiana began to sob. “My poor child,” said Lady Strange, “from my heart I grieve for you. Sir, we are all much to blame. Had we foreseen this a week ago!—Would that this week could be recalled, for the sake of this child’s happiness! I have pleaded with Foxwell; but he is determined to deliver you up.” “What!—deliver—” Georgiana became for a moment speechless; then uttered a scream, and was like to have fallen to the floor, had not Everell grasped her more tightly in his arms. “Heaven pity her!—my dear love!” “Why, then—did she not know?” cried Lady Strange. “Not the whole truth—only that I was going away.”