His right hand still grasped
hers firmly; and her delicate cheek was pillowed on his shoulder; the
fingers of his other hand played gently with a long, glossy chestnut
tress that had escaped from the prison of the close cap she wore. So
they remained, for a long time--no sound passing between them, beyond
half-formed whispers of endearment: no one came in to molest them: there
was work enough and to spare, that night, for all in Scutari. The
thought of interruption never crossed Cecil's mind for an instant.
Always careless and defiant of conventionality, or the world's opinion,
she was tenfold more reckless now. Her head was bent down, and her eyes
closed; so that she could not see how the hollows deepened on her
lover's face; nor how the pallor of his cheek darkened rapidly to an
ashen-gray. But inward warnings of approaching dissolution spoke plainly
enough to Royston Keene. He knew what he had to do.
He raised her head from where it rested, and said, so gently, "If my
time is short, there is the more reason that I should be loth to lose
you, even for an hour. But you must have rest; and I feel as if I could
sleep.
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