had noiselessly drawn her away, and before she knew what had happened they were apart from the rest in the night alone. He had supported her to a little clump of wattle growing close and making a kind of bower, which sheltered them from observation. Neither said a word. The hood of her ulster had fallen back, and her head was upraised and her eyes were meeting his, the gaze of both intense, beseeching, and terribly sad. Still neither said a word. But he drew her quite close to him as they leaned against the wattle tree, and bent his head to hers and their lips were joined.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
"I LOVE YOU, ELSIE."
He kept her fast. It seemed an eternity in a moment. No explanations were given; none were needed. She knew that he loved her. He was recalled to himself by a sort of shuddering sob in her.
"Elsie, my darling," he said very quietly and gravely, and yet always with that thrill of repressed excitement, "you are not to be angry with me for what I have done. If we had sat together there one moment longer, I must have done this before them all; and that would have been worse for you, my poor child, for though I love you, Elsie, I cannot marry you, my dear. You must marry Frank Hallett, and he will make you happier than I ever could."
"I must marry Frank Hallett!" she repeated in a dull, nervous way. The pride and the anger had all gone out of her. It did not occur to her to upbraid him. It seemed to her that they were both bound in a fate for which neither was responsible.
"Elsie," he said, "I'm in a mad mood to-night. That dancing has set every nerve going. I can't restrain myself. Oh, darling, it's worth a great deal to have such a moment as this. I shall try to keep away from you after to-night.
