"Great, true, noble love is never selfish. My sister can never
be happy with you; then release her. If you force her, or rather
try to force her, to keep this rash promise, think how she will
dislike you. If you are generous, and release her, think how she
will esteem you."
"Does she not love me?" he asked; and his voice was hoarse with
pain.
"No," replied Lillian, gently; "it is better for you to know the
truth. She does not love you--she never will."
"I do not believe it," he cried. "I will never believe it from
any lips but her own! Not love me! Great Heaven! Do you know
you are speaking of the woman who promised to be my wife? If she
tells me so, I will believe her."
"She will tell you," said Lillian, "and you must not blame her.
Come again when she is well."
"No," returned Hugh Fernely; "I have waited long enough. I am
here to see her, and I swear I will not leave until she has
spoken to me."
He drew a pencil case from his pocket, and wrote a few lines on
the envelope which Beatrice had sent.
"Give that to your sister," he said, softly; "and, Miss Lillian,
I thank you for coming to me.
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