And, as I did not answer, she stepped nearer till I could see her blue eyes searching mine.

“What have you done!” I cried, harshly.

“I do not know,” she said.

“I know,” I retorted, fiercely.  “Time was all we had—­a few poor hours—­a day or two together.  And with time there was chance, and with chance, hope.  You have killed all three!”

“No; ... there was no chance; there is no longer any time; there never was any hope.”

“There was hope!” I said, bitterly.

“No, there was none,” she murmured.

“Then why did you tell me that you were free till the yoke locked you to him?  Why did you desire to love?  Why did you bid me teach you?  Why did you consent to my lips, my arms?  Why did you awake me?”

“God knows,” she said, faintly.

“Is that your defence?” I asked.  “Have you no defence?”

“None....  I had never loved....  I found you kind and I had known no man like you....  Every moment with you entranced me till, ...  I don’t know why, ... that sweet madness came upon ... us ... which can never come again—­which must never come....  Forgive me.  I did not understand.  Love was a word to me.”

“Dorothy, Dorothy, what have I done!” I stammered.

“Not you, but I, ... and now it is plain to me why, unwedded, I stand yoked together with my honor, and you stand apart, fettered to yours....  We have shaken our chains in play, the links still hold firm and bright; but if we break them, then, as they snap, our honor dies forever.  For what I have done in idle ignorance forgive me, and leave me to my penance, ... which must last for all my life, cousin....  And you will forget....  Hush! dearest lad, and let me speak.  Well, then I will say that I pray you may forget!  Well, then I will not say that to grieve you....  I wish you to remember—­yet not know the pain that I—­”

“Dorothy, Dorothy, do you still love me?”

“Oh, I do love you!...  No, no!  I ask you to spare me even the touch of your hand!  I ask it, I beg you to spare me!  I implore—­Be a shield to me!  Aid me, cousin.  I ask it for the Ormond honor and for the honor of the roof that shelters us both!...  Now do you understand?...  Oh, I knew you to be all that I adore and worship!

* * * * *

Our fault was in our ignorance.  How could we know of that hidden fire within us, stirring its chilled embers in all innocence until the flames flashed out and clothed us both in glory, cousin?  Heed me, lest it turn to flames of hell!

* * * * *

And now, dear lad, lest you should deem me mad to cut short the happy time we had to hope for, I must tell you what I have never told before.  All that we have in all the world is by charity of Sir George.  He stood in the breach when the Cosby heirs made ready to foreclose on father; he held off the Van Rensselaers; he threw the sop to Billy Livingston and to that great villain, Klock.  To-day, unsecured, his loans to my father, still unpaid, have nigh beggared him.  And the little he has he is about to risk in this war whose tides are creeping on us through this very night.