But she drew herself from me firmly, saying in a low, broken voice, full
of pathos:--
"No, Godfrey. Let us say good-night here. Let both of us go our own
way, as we have done before; both of us, however, now confident in each
other's love, even though our lives lie far apart. Remember me only as
an unhappy woman who, through no fault of her own, is prevented from
becoming your wife. Think of me still as your Ella of the old sweet
days, and I will remember you, my Godfrey--the--the man I love. I--"
But she could utter no further word, for she burst into a flood of
bitter tears.