The blood went to my brain, and it was with a severe effort I
collected my thoughts.
"You say," I continued, "that I must not go. Lucia, there is only
one single condition on which I will stay."
"What is it?" she murmured.
She had ceased to resist my arm now. The colour was hot in her face,
and her eyes confused.
"That you name some definite and definitive date for our marriage."
"This question again! How you do torture me! It worries me to have
to think about it!"
"I know, dearest; that is why I say, settle something, and don't
think about it any more."
"How can you be so absurd!" she answered, leaning her head back
against the chair, and averting her soft, flushed face as far from
me as she could, so successfully that there was little view of
anything except the white throat and under-part of her chin as she
strained her head back from me.
"Please let things go on as they are."
The words were a positive entreaty, but they fell upon ground where
passion had blocked access to any of the tenderer, impersonal
feelings. I only felt a rage of impatience as I heard her.
"No, dearest," I said very gently; "that is just what they cannot
do;" and I looked at the swelling neck with the faint blue veins
visible in its transparency, and thought, "You must be my own, or I
must cease to see you, otherwise I shall strangle you.
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