"Will you not even tell me where she lives?"
"I cannot, without her leave; but if you like I will tell her about
you."
There was no answer as they drove on. Then of a sudden Langholm's arm
was seized and crushed by bony fingers.
"I am dying," the low voice whispered hoarsely in his ear. "Can't you
see it for yourself? I shall never get better; it might be a year or
two, it may be weeks. But I want to see her again and make sure. Yes, I
love her! There is no sense in denying it. But it is all on my side, and
I am dying, and she has married again! What harm can it do anybody if I
see her once more?"
The sunken eyes were filled with tears. There were more tears in the
hollow voice. Langholm was deeply touched.
"My dear fellow," he said, "I will let her know. No, no, not that, of
course! But I will write to her at once--to-night! Will that not do?"
Severino thanked him, with a heavy sigh. "Oh, don't get down," he added,
as Langholm rose. "I won't talk about her any more."
"I am staying in this street," explained Langholm, guardedly.
"And these are my lodgings," rejoined the other, pulling a letter from
his pocket, and handing the envelope to Langholm.
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