"Yes, yes, and--and--?" asked George, pleadingly.
"Yes, and for my own sake," she answered, turning her face from him,
probably to hide the tears that were in her eyes.
"I shall see that good fortune does come," said he, "but I do not ask you
to wait an hour for it. If happiness comes to you in the right man--I
cannot finish. Good-by!"
He rose, bent over her, kissed her hand, and was about to leave her
hastily, evidently in fear of himself. But she clung to his hand and,
drawing him down to her, offered him her lips. At first he seemed to draw
away, but unable to resist, caught her in his arms, kissed her, and fled.
Frances thrust aside the bushes and watched him as he walked rapidly down
the path. When he turned, just before reaching the bend, she kissed her
hand to him, murmuring as though speaking to herself, "Good-by, good-by!"
Then she sat down and covered her face with her hands.
After a short time she rose, dried her eyes, and started home, and in a
few minutes I climbed the hill and took a short cut to Sundridge. I
reached home before Frances, and, notwithstanding all I had seen, was
fully convinced that she would be as safe in Whitehall Court as in her
father's house.
* * * * *
That evening Frances and I walked out together, and I, feeling stricken
in conscience, confessed that I had witnessed the interview between her
and Hamilton.
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