I would repudiate you if I lay on my death-bed." "I will never seek you out and bring you to shame," he said; "I promise it faithfully, by my love for you.

As I hope ever to obtain pardon, I promise it." "Then leave me," she cried; "I can bear this no longer.

Good-by, Roland." They were still some paces apart, he with his shaggy mountain cap in his hand standing respectfully at a distance, and she, sitting by the low, open hearth with her white, quiet face turned toward him.

All the village might have witnessed their interview through the uncurtained windows.

Slowly, almost mechanically, Felicita left her seat and advanced toward him with an outstretched hand.