You will not look
at me as you do now. You are kind to me because I have been ill. You
pity me for my white face. It is very good of you. But _won't_ you love
me, Kate? I don't deserve it. But I've read so often of beautiful women
loving men who did not deserve it. Perhaps I may be worthy of it some
day. And by that time you will have loved somebody else!"
He turned involuntarily, and walked towards home. He recovered himself
instantly, however, and returning put his hand on Kate's arm, who was
frightened and anxious. Like a child praying to his mother, he
repeated:
"_Won't_ you love me, Kate?--Just a little?--How can I go into that
room after you are gone--and all your things out of it? I am not good
enough ever to sleep there again. _Won't_ you love me, Kate? A little?"
"I do love you dearly. You know that, Alec. Why do you always press me
to say more?"
"Because I do not like the way you say it."
"You want me to speak your way, not my own, and be a hypocrite?"
"Kate! Kate! I understand you too well."
They walked home in silence.
Now, although this was sad enough for Alec, yet there was room for
hope. But she was going away, and he would not know what she was doing
or thinking.
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