suppress.
I held my breath--startled at her sudden and unaccountable change ofmanner. My heart was bursting. What did it mean?
"Speak, dearest!" I implored. "Tell me the reason of this? Are younot still my love? Are you not mine--as you were in the old days?"
Slowly she shook her head, and in a faltering voice, hoarse and low,responded:--
"No, Godfrey! After to-night we must never again meet. Forgive me, butI thought you had long ago forgotten me as utterly worthless."
"I have never forgotten, darling. You are my own dear Ella, as always.Therefore we are now inseparable--we _shall_ meet again."
"Impossible!" she declared decisively in that same hard tone, her voiceso entirely changed. "I am no longer your love, Godfrey. I may as wellconfess to you the bitter truth at once--_I am another's_!"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
BETRAYS SOME HIDDEN INTRIGUE.
I fell back at Ella's words, as though I had received a blow full in thechest.
"You--you are married!" I gasped.
"No--not yet," was her low answer, in the same blank, mechanical voice.
"Then you love another man!" I cried fiercely.
"In a month's time I am to be married."
"But you shall not, Ella!" I exclaimed quickly and determinedly. "Youare mine. Surely I have a prior claim to you! You loved me in the olddays--you surely cannot deny that!"
"I do not deny it, Godfrey," she said, in that same sweet, soft voicethat had so long rung in my ears. "Unfortunately I did not know thatyou still retained any affection for me. I made inquiries, but no oneknew where you were, except that you were always abroad. For aught Iknew you might already be married. Therefore, I am not altogether toblame."
"Who is the man?" I asked, with a fierce jealousy rising within me.Was this fellow, whoever he might be, to rob me, after all, of my love,whom I had so fortunately rediscovered?
"I regret it, but I cannot tell you his name."
"Not tell me his name!" I cried. "Why not? What mystery need there beif you are to be married?"
"I have promised to say nothing until we are man and wife," sheanswered. "You alone, Godfrey, have I told because--well, because Idare not again deceive you."
"Then you still love me!" I exclaimed quickly. "Confess the truth."
"What is the use of discussing affection?" she asked. "The die is cast.At the very moment when we meet again after this long separation, wefind ourselves debarred from happiness. We can never become man andwife."
"Why not?"
"Because I must marry this man."
"Must?"
"Yes," she whispered hoarsely.
"But you were in that position regarding Blumenthal," I remarked, muchpuzzled. In the darkness I could not distinguish the expression of hercountenance, but from her voice I knew that she was in desperation, andthat she was actually telling me a hideous truth.
"Misfortune seems to follow upon me," was her somewhat enigmaticalanswer.
"Then be frank with me, Ella. This man whom you will not name isforcing you to marry him."
She was, however, silent. Either she feared to commit herself, or shewas reflecting upon how much she dare tell me.
I heard her breath going and coming in quick gasps, and I coulddistinguish that her pointed chin had sunk upon her chest in an attitudeof deep dejection.
"Why not tell me everything, darling?" I went on, hoping to persuadeher to confess. "Remember what I am to you; remember that our liveshave for so long been linked together, that ever in these years of ourseparation you have been mine always, in heart and soul. I have smiledupon no other woman but your own sweet self, and never once has my heartbeen stirred by the zephyr of love since that dark wet night when weparted in London, and I went forth into the wide grey ocean of despair.Ella, you--"
"Enough! Enough!" she cried, suddenly interrupting me. "Do not recallthe past. All is too bitter, too melancholy. Every single detail ofour last interview I have lived over and over again--I, who lied to you,even though my heart was breaking. Blumenthal gave me my freedom--andyet--"
"And yet," I said very slowly, in a low, intense voice--"and yet youhave again fallen the victim of a man's ingenious wiles. Tell me thetruth, dearest. You have been entrapped--and you see no way of escape."
But she only shook her head sadly, saying:--
"No, I can say nothing--not even to you, Godfrey."
"Why?" I cried, dismayed. "Why all this secrecy and mystery? Surely Imay, at least, know the man's name?"
"That I cannot tell you."
"Then he has forbidden you to reveal his real identity?"
She nodded in the affirmative.
"Which plainly shows that the fellow is in fear of something. He'safraid of exposure in some way or other. I will not allow you, my owndear love, to become the victim of this fellow!" I said fiercely. "Hemay be an adventurer, for all you know--a man with an evil past. Hehas, without doubt, ascertained that on your father's death Wichenfordwill be yours. No, Ella, I will not allow you to marry this man whoforbids you to reveal his name."
"But what will you do?" she cried in alarm.
"What will I do? I will tell him to his face that you are mine--that hehas no right to you. And you will refuse to become his wife."
"Ah!--yes--but you must not do that," she declared. "Why not?"
"No. I beg of you to do nothing rash," she urged in breathless anxiety,laying her hand upon my arm.
"But I will not allow you--my own well-beloved--to become the wife ofanother!"
"Godfrey," she said, in so low a voice that it was scarcely above awhisper, "you must. There is no way of escape for me."
"Then you are a victim of this nameless man!"
She nodded in the affirmative.
"Who is he? Tell me," I demanded. "I have a right to know."
"Yes, you have, indeed, a right, but I have given my word of honour tosay nothing. I cannot tell his name--even to you."
The mystery of it all somehow aroused my suspicions. Was she deceivingme? Had she invented this nameless lover with some ulterior object? Noman can ever fathom the ingenuity of a woman who intends to deceive.
"Permit me to say so, Ella, but you are not frank with me," I exclaimedreproachfully. "Why do you not tell me the whole truth, and allow me totake what steps I think proper? Cannot you realise all I feel at thethought of losing you again--for the second time? The past has beenblack enough, but the future for me will be even darker if I go away inthe knowledge that you are the victim of a man unworthy of you. Tellme, dearest, do you doubt my love?"
"No," she sighed. "I have never doubted it, Godfrey. I know howpassionate is your affection; that you love me truly and well. Yet itis all to no purpose. We have met again, it is true, and under thestrangest circumstances. It would almost seem as though Fate hasbrought us together, merely in order to tear us apart. For us, Godfrey,there, alas! can be no happiness," she added sadly, with a deep-drawnsigh.
"Why not?"
For a few moments she did not reply. I repeated my question, againkissing the cold lips.
"Because--because," she faltered, "I am compelled to marry this man."
"He is compelling you, eh?" I asked, between my teeth.
"Yes."
"And may I not stand as your champion? May I, who love you so dearly,extricate you from this trap?"
She shook her head slowly.
"It is not a trap, Godfrey," she answered. "Rather call it force ofcircumstances. Those who told you I was dead lied to you, while I,hearing nothing from you, naturally concluded that you had forgotten.Therefore it is best for us to part again at once--to-night--for thememories of the past are to us both too painful."
"Part from you, Ella!" I cried. "Never--never. You must be mad.While you breathe and live I shall remain near you as your friend, yourprotector, nay, your lover--the man who loves you better than his ownlife!" I declared, taking her small hand and raising it
reverently tomy lips. "It is cruel of you, darling, to suggest us parting."
"No, it is the more merciful to both of us. We must part--so the soonerthe better."
"You told me this on that never-to-be-forgotten night in London," I saidreproachfully. "Therefore I cannot think that you are now in earnest."
"I am, Godfrey," she declared quickly. "I do not deny to you that Ilove you, but love between us is debarred. I am unhappy--ah! God aloneknows what trials I have borne--what horrors have been mine to witness--and now to fill the cup
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