him.
“But you love me, Hermione?” he pleaded.
“If I had only known,” she sighed, “I might not have learned to love you—quite so much! If I had only known!” Her voice was soft and low, her blue eyes wide and tearless, and because of this, he trembled.
“Hermione,” said he gently, “all this week I have been planning for you and Arthur. I have been dreaming of our life together, yours and mine, a life so big, so wonderful, so full of happiness that I trembled, sometimes, dreading it was only a dream. Dear, the gates of our paradise are open; will you shut me out? Must I go back to my loneliness?”
“I shall be lonely, too!” she murmured brokenly. “But better, oh, far better loneliness than that some day—” she paused, her lips quivering.
“Some day, Hermione?”
“You should find that you had married not only a scrubwoman but—the sister of a—thief!” Suddenly she sprang to her feet, her clinging arms held him to her bosom and, drawing down his head, she pressed her mouth to his; holding him thus, she spoke, her voice low and quick and passionate:
“Oh, my love, my love! I do love you with every thought, with every part of me—so much, so very much that my heart is breaking, I think. But, dearest, my love is such that I would be everything fair and beautiful for you, everything proud and good and noble for you if I could. But I am only Hermy Chesterton, a Tenth Avenue girl, and —my brother—So I’m going to send you away, back to your own world, back to your own kind because—because I do love you so! Ah, God, never doubt my love, but—you must go—”
“Never, Hermione, never!”
“You must! You will, I know, because your love is a big, generous love—because you are chivalrous and strong and gentle—because I beg and implore you if you have any pity for me—go—”
“But why?—Why?”
“Oh, must I tell you that—can’t you understand?”
“Why must I go, Hermione?”
“Because,” she murmured, her yearning arms close about him, her face close hidden against his breast, “because I’ll never—marry you—now—but I love you—love you so much that I’m afraid—ah, not of you. So, I must be alone—quite alone—to fight my battle. And now—now that I’ve shown you all my heart, told you all my weakness, you’ll go for my sake—just for my sake—won’t you?”
“Yes—I’ll—go!” he answered slowly.
“Away from here—to-night?”
“Yes,” he answered hoarsely, “yes!”
Then Hermione fell suddenly before him on her knees, and, before he could stay her, had caught his hands, kissing them, wetting them with her tears, and pressing them passionately to her bosom.
“I knew,” she cried, “I knew that you were strong and gentle and—good. Good-by—oh, my love—good- by!”
“Hermione,” said he, kissing her bowed head, “oh, my Hermione, I love you with a love that will die only when I do. I want you, and I’ll never lose hope of winning you—some day, never give up my determination to marry you— never, so help me God!”
Then swiftly he turned away but, reaching the door, stooped and picked up M’Ginnis’s neckerchief and, recognising it, crumpled it in fierce hand; so, with it clenched in griping fingers, he hurried away and left her there upon her knees.
CHAPTER XXX
HOW GEOFFREY RAVENSLEE DEPARTED FROM HELL’S KITCHEN
“What, back again already, Mr. Geoffrey?” exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, poking her head around the kitchen door, as Ravenslee entered the flat, “back so soon?”
“Only for a minute, Mrs. Trapes.”
“Supper’ll be ready soon—your wedding supper, eh, Mr. Geoffrey? You’ll have it here with me, you an’ Hermy, o’ course! Smells kind o’ good, don’t it?”
“Delicious, Mrs. Trapes!”
“Delicious is the word, Mr. Geoffrey—stooed beef with carrots—”
“And onions, Mrs. Trapes—onions, I’m sure?”
“Well, I’ll not deny a onion here an’ there, Mr. Geoffrey—a stoo needs ‘em.”
“Ah, I knew it!” sighed Ravenslee. “I grieve that I shan’t be able to eat it.”
“Not eat—what, you? Say, y’ ain’t sick, are you?”
“Not in body, Mrs. Trapes.”
“Then why no stoo?”
“Because I shan’t be here. I’m going, Mrs. Trapes—I’m leaving Mulligan’s now—for good—”
“Leavin’—y’ mean with Hermy?”
“No—alone. Good-by, Mrs. Trapes!”
“My land!” gasped Mrs. Trapes, “what you tellin’ me?”
“Good-by, Mrs. Trapes!”
