"What happiness would be mine in such a paradise, with Zarlah for my
own!" I thought, and a great anguish filled my heart, as I realized the
impossibility of it--and now for the first time I also realized the
impossibility of life without Zarlah. A sudden dread of meeting the one
I loved came upon me--a dread of seeing the light of love in her eyes,
even for an instant, knowing that it was not for me. I felt I could not
bear to behold the look of tenderness in her beautiful face change to
one of hatred, upon learning how she had been deceived; and in my agony
of spirit, I cried in a voice of deep emotion:
"Ah, Zarlah! I have won you, yet you are not mine! You have loved me,
yet I am not loved!"
"I am yours, and I love you, Harold," softly protested a voice at my
side.
With a start I turned and beheld Zarlah, and for a moment I stood as if
gazing at an apparition.
Realizing my bewilderment, she laid her hand gently upon my arm, and in
a low voice, full of compassion, said: "It is Harold Lonsdale whom I
love!"
In a delirium of ecstasy I caught the small white hand and pressed it to
my lips. Passing my arm about her I drew her tenderly toward me, gazing
down into her beautiful eyes where lay a world of tenderness and love.
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