"
There was now not a trace of color in his face, and he felt as if he
were turning to stone. He found himself absolutely unable to meet her
words with any of his own, but he had never been so completely her
slave.
"You must answer me one question plainly," she continued, "and I want
the truth. Will you, Mr. Westerfelt?"
"If I can I will, Harriet."
"On your honor?"
"Yes, on my honor."
"Were you not leaving simply to--to get away from the--(oh, I don't
know how to say it)--the--because you did not want to be near me?"
He shrank back; how was he to reply to such a pointed question?
"On your word of honor, Mr. Westerfelt!"
There was nothing for him to do but answer in the affirmative, but it
fired him with a desire to justify himself. "But it was not because I
don't love you, Harriet. On the other hand, it was because I do--so
much that the whole thing is simply driving me crazy. As God is my
judge, I worship you--I love you as no man ever loved a woman before.
But when I remember--"
"I know what you are going to say," her lip curling in scorn, "and I
want to help you forget my misfortune.
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