* * * * *
When I said good-night to her to-day she seemed suddenly
unaccountably distracted and moody. What was occupying her?
“I am sorry you are going,” she said when I was already standing on
“It is entirely in your hands to shorten the hard period of my
trial, to cease tormenting me–” I pleaded.
“Do you imagine that this compulsion isn’t a torment for me, too,”
“Then end it,” I exclaimed, embracing her, “be my wife.”
“_Never, Severin_,” she said gently, but with great firmness.
“What do you mean?”
I was frightened in my innermost soul.
“_You are not the man for me._”
I looked at her, and slowly withdrew my arm which was still about
her waist; then I left the room, and she–she did not call me back.