"Certainly--most certainly," answered Miller, in that breezy manner that he had sometimes assumed towards me on our last meeting. He was essentially a man of moods, sometimes brooding and strange, at others full of buoyant good-humour, "You are always welcome here, remember. Perhaps you'll dine with us--just pot-luck--at seven to-morrow night? I don't expect you get much that's worth eating down at the `Lion'. We'll induce Ella to stay over to-morrow, eh?" My love protested that she would be compelled to return to Swanage in the morning, but we would not hear of it. Then Miller, with a delicacy which further showed that he had taken a fancy to me, suggested that Ella might, perhaps, like to accompany me as far as the lodge-gates, and a few moments later I went forth with my love into the darkness. For the first hundred paces, until we entered the black shadows of the old beech hedge, we walked hand-in-hand, uttering no single word. After that long interval of mourning and black despair, I was again at her side--alone. I was beside myself for very joy. We halted. It seemed an almost involuntary action. Then taking her tenderly in my arms I pressed my lips to hers in a first long passionate caress. "My love!" I murmured, with heart overflowing, "my dearest love--you for whom I have mourned, and whose dear memory I have ever revered--God has given you back to me. We have met again--you have been given to me from the grave, never to part--never--_never_!" To my blank amazement she turned her pale white face from mine, without reciprocating my passionate kisses. She sighed, and a shiver ran through her slight frame. Her lips were cold, and with her hands she pushed me from her with averted face. "Ella!" I gasped, holding her, and looking into her fine eyes, though I could see no expression there, so dark was it. "Ella! Darling, may I not at least kiss you welcome on your return to me? Are you not mine-- my own?" She made no response, only pushing me farther from her very firmly, although I felt that her tiny hands trembled. She was overcome with emotion, which she was in vain striving to suppress. I held my breath--startled at her sudden and unaccountable change of manner. My heart was bursting. What did it mean? "Speak, dearest!" I implored. "Tell me the reason of this? Are you not still my love? Are you not mine--as you were in the old days?" Slowly she shook her head, and in a faltering voice, hoarse and low, responded:-- "No, Godfrey! After to-night we must never again meet. Forgive me, but I thought you had long ago forgotten me as utterly worthless." "I have never forgotten, darling. You are my own dear Ella, as always. Therefore we are now inseparable--we _shall_ meet again." "Impossible!" she declared decisively in that same hard tone, her voice so entirely changed. "I am no longer your love, Godfrey. I may as well confess to you the bitter truth at once--_I am another's_!" CHAPTER FIFTEEN.