I loved you because I could not help myself--because you were Elizabeth Templeton and I was Malcolm Herrick." Then her eyes grew very sad.
"Dear friend, it was no presumption--any woman would have felt honoured by such devotion; but," and here a burning flush came to her face, "it is too late--I am not free." Malcolm stared at her.

Surely he was in some hideous nightmare, but he would wake directly.

What an awful stillness seemed round them!--as though a storm were impending: the water-lilies on the Pool looked like dead things, and even the dragon-fly hung motionless in mid-air; only the dogs panted and snored round them.

Elizabeth pressed her hands together as though something pained her.
"I am not free," she repeated in a low voice; but she did not look at Malcolm as she spoke.

"Last evening Mr.Carlyon spoke to me, and--and we are engaged." "Good God!" but Malcolm did not say the words aloud, for his tongue felt suddenly dry and palsied,--it was only the cry of his soul to his Maker in the hour of his agony.