"Charles! Why have you come here?"
There was an instant of stillness, then a swift movement and a man's arms
caught her as she stood and she was a prisoner.
She made a wild struggle for freedom. "No--no!" she panted. "Let me go!"
But he held her fast,--so fast that she gasped and gasped for
breath,--saying no word, only holding her, till suddenly she cried out
sharply and her resistance broke.
She hid her face against him. "You!" she said. "You!"
He held her yet in silence for a space, and through the silence she heard
the beat of his heart; quick and hard, as if he had been running a race.
Then over her bowed head he spoke, his voice deep, vibrant, seeming to
hold back some inner leaping force.
"Didn't I tell you I should follow you--and bring you back?"
She shrank at his words. "I can't come--I can't come!" she said.
"You will come, Juliet," he said quietly.
"No--no!" She lifted her head in sudden passionate protest. "Not to
be tortured! I can't face it! Before God I would rather--I would
rather--die!"
He answered her with flame that leaped to hers. "And don't you think I
would rather die than let you go?"
"Ah!" she said, and no more; for the fierce possession of his hold
checked all remonstrance.
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