You remember the promise you made me
then, keep it still, and bury the knowledge of my lost happiness deep in
your pitying heart, as I shall in my proud one. Now the storm is over,
and I am ready for my work again, but it must be a new task in a new
scene. I hate this house, this room, the faces I must meet, the duties I
must perform, for the memory of that traitor haunts them all. I see a
future full of interest, a stage whereon I could play a stirring part. I
long for it intensely, yet cannot make it mine alone. Manuel, do you
love me still?"
Bending suddenly, she brushed back the dark hair that streaked his
forehead and searched the face that in an instant answered her. Like a
swift rising light, the eloquent blood rushed over swarthy cheek and
brow, the slumberous softness of the eyes kindled with a flash, and the
lips, sensitive as any woman's, trembled yet broke into a rapturous
smile as he cried, with fervent brevity, "I would die for you!"
A look of triumph swept across her face, for with this boy, as
chivalrous as ardent, she knew that words were not mere breath. Still,
with her stern purpose uppermost, she changed the bitter smile into one
half-timid, half-tender, as she bent still nearer, "Manuel, in a week I
leave the island. Shall I go alone?"
"No, Pauline."
He understood her now.
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