"Yes," she said, the word broken with a sigh. "I am sorry; but I must
go. I don't know how late it is."
He took the watch from her belt--the very act was a caress--and looked
at it.
"We have been here an hour. It seems only a minute. And we must part!
That's hard."
"Yes, it's hard," she whispered, with a long breath. "But we shall meet
again. Oh, I couldn't bear to think that we shall not meet again soon.
You will come--will you come to the Hall?"
He knit his brows.
"I can't, dearest; I can't. Don't ask me why. God knows I want to tell
you everything; but--but presently. You can trust me, Celia?"
"I'd trust you with my life, with all that there is of me," she said,
with a simplicity that made him catch her to him.
"You must trust me, for the present," he said. "Let me think things
over. I can't think now--I can scarcely realise that you are in my arms,
that you are mine. Mine! Mine, after all this time of waiting and
longing. Tell me once more, just once more, that you love me, Celia."
"I love you!" she breathed, her star-like eyes meeting his
unflinchingly. "Oh, how strange it is! I don't even know your name."
He winced imperceptibly, and his lips drew straight. They had almost
formed the words "Derrick Dene," but he held them back.
"Sydney," he said. "Sydney Green."
"Sydney," she murmured; and though Derrick hated the name on her lips,
yet it sounded the sweetest music.
"You'll meet me to-morrow here, in the morning, Celia? I could not wait
all day. Be here at ten o'clock."
"I will."
"By that time, I shall have thought things over; I shall be able to tell
you----Oh, dearest, must you go? You seem to take my life with you."
"And I leave mine with you," she said, gravely.
"Celia! You've got my life and my heart in this little hand of yours."
He kissed it.
"And do you think I shall not hold them? But I must go. Yes; kiss me
once more--only once, or I shall never be able to leave you. I will be
here at ten o'clock. It will seem an age----"
He gripped her to him, and kissed her; and he stood, with hand pressed
hard against the tree, watching the slight, graceful form till it
disappeared from his view.