"
I went up and cautiously opened the door. The signorina was lying on
the bed, with a shawl over her. She seemed to be asleep. I bent over
her and kissed her. She opened her eyes, and said, in a weary voice:
"Is it you, Jack?"
"Yes, my darling," said I. "I am going. I must go or die; and whether
I go or die, I must be alone."
She was strangely quiet--even apathetic. As I knelt down by her she
raised herself, and took my face between her hands and kissed me--not
passionately, but tenderly.
"My poor Jack!" she said; "it was no use, dear. It is no use to fight
against him."
Here was her strange subjection to that influence again.
"You love me?" I cried, in my pain.
"Yes," she said, "but I am very tired; and he will be good to me."
Without another word I went from her, with the bitter knowledge that
my great grief found but a pale reflection in her heart.
"I am ready to go," I said to the President.
"Come, then," he replied. "Here, take these, you may want them," and
he thrust a bundle of notes into my hand (some of my own from the bank
I afterward discovered).
Arrived at the boat, I got in mechanically and made all preparations
for the start.
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