"Better that than the shame of a prison!" I exclaimed, and, while
I spoke, I lifted her in my arms. "Oh!--I am proud--proud to
have won such a love as yours--let me try to be worthy of it.
Good-by, my beloved!" and so I kissed her, and would have turned
away, but her arms clung about me.
"Oh, Peter!" she sobbed, "if you must go--if you will go, call
me--your wife--just once, Peter."
The hovering light was much nearer now, and the rustle of leaves
louder, as I stooped above her cold hands, and kissed their
trembling fingers.
"Some day," said I, "some day, if there is a just God in heaven,
we shall meet again; perhaps soon, perhaps late. Until then, let
us dream of that glorious, golden some day, but now--farewell,
oh, beloved wife!"
With a broken cry, she drew my head down upon her breast, and
clasped it there, while her tears mingled with her kisses, and
so--crying my name, she turned, and was lost among the leaves.