This is what we have brought upon ourselves, it is the
price that we must pay for this hour which has gone. You are to go away
to-morrow, that we may be put out of temptation, and you must come back
no more. Sometimes I shall write to you, and sometimes perhaps you will
write to me, till the thing becomes a burden, then you can stop.
And whether you forget me or not--and, Geoffrey, I do not think you
will--you will know that I shall never forget you, whom I saved from the
sea--to love me."
There was something so sweet and infinitely tender about her words,
instinct as they were with natural womanly passion, that Geoffrey
bent at heart beneath their weight as a fir bends beneath the gentle,
gathering snow. What was he to do, how could he leave her? And yet she
was right. He must go, and go quickly, lest his strength might fail
him, and hand in hand they should pass a bourne from which there is no
return.
"Heaven help us, Beatrice," he said. "I will go to-morrow morning and,
if I can, I will keep away."
"You _must_ keep away. I will not see you any more. I will not bring
trouble on you, Geoffrey.
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