, escaped her.

I knelt silently down beside her, and gently withdrawing her hand, placed
it within mine. A dreadful feeling of self-condemnation shot through me as
I felt the gentle pressure of her taper fingers, which rested without a
struggle in my grasp. My tears fell hot and fast upon that pale hand, as
I bent in sadness over it, unable to utter a word. A rush of conflicting
thoughts passed through my brain, and I knew not what to do. I now had no
doubt upon my mind that she loved me, and that her present affliction was
caused by my approaching departure.

"Dearest Inez!" I stammered out at length, as I pressed her hands to my
lips,--"dearest Inez!"--a faint sob, and a slight pressure of her hand, was
the only reply. "I have come to say good-by," continued I, gaining a little
courage as I spoke; "a long good-by, too, in all likelihood. You have heard
that we are ordered away,--there, don't sob, dearest, and, believe me, I
had wished ere we parted to have spoken to you calmly and openly; but,
alas, I cannot,--I scarcely know what I say."

"You will not forget me?" said she, in a low voice, that sank into my very
heart. "You will not forget me?" As she spoke, her hand dropped heavily
upon my shoulder, and her rich luxuriant hair fell upon my cheek. What a
devil of a thing is proximity to a downy cheek and a black eyelash, more
especially when they belong to one whom you are disposed to believe not
indifferent to you! What I did at this precise moment there is no necessity
for recording, even had not an adage interdicted such confessions, nor can
I now remember what I said; but I can well recollect how, gradually warming
with my subject, I entered into a kind of half-declaration of attachment,
intended most honestly to be a mere _expose_ of my own unworthiness to win
her favor, and my resolution to leave Lisbon and its neighborhood forever.

Let not any one blame me rashly if he has not experienced the difficulty of
my position. The impetus of love-making is like the ardor of a fox-hunt.
You care little that the six-bar gate before you is the boundary of another
gentleman's preserves or the fence of his pleasure-ground. You go slap
along at a smashing-pace, with your head up, and your hand low, clearing
all before you, the opposing difficulties to your progress giving half
the zest, because all the danger to your career. So it is with love; the
gambling spirit urges one ever onward, and the chance of failure is a
re