ur Highness desires to ask me?" she
faltered.
"Surely you can guess," I answered. "Ottilie, I love you, and I
want you to tell me whether in return you can love me well enough
to be my wife."
Though she must have known what was coming, a little cry escaped
her.
"What can I say? What can I say?" she repeated in a choking voice.
"Can you not see that I am prepared to do my duty at any cost to
myself?"
"But you shall not do it at the expense of your heart," I answered.
"Ottilie, do you love me?"
"Oh, why do you ask me?" she cried, with a catch of her breath that
was almost hysterical. "How can I answer as you wish?"
"You have given me my answer," I returned. "It seems I have lived
in a fool's paradise. But I have loved you, and, as God is my
witness, I will not force you into a loveless marriage."
What I said to her after that can have no interest for anyone save
our own two selves; let it suffice that, when I left her, I came on
here. Strangely enough, I had no sooner quitted the Park than my
composure returned to me, and by the time I had reached this room,
I could stand off and look at everything in its proper light. And
now one other matter, and the last. I know what you have thought of
me these last few weeks, and the suspicions you have
entertained--well, I might also say, concerning my sanity. But you
are in error, my dear brother. No man was ever saner than I am at
this moment. The result of it all is, as I said at the commencement
of my letter, that I have arrived at a decision. I have come to an
understanding with myself. By the time you open this letter I shall
have left London, never, I hope, to return to it. As far as I am
concerned, the farce of kingship is played out. I, for one, have
been wearied to death by the performance. With this letter I cast
it off. To-night I enter upon a new life, in which, please God, I
shall comport myself more like a man than I have done hitherto. I
have chosen a name which will not furnish any clue as to my
identity, so that it will be impossible for you to trace me. Under
it, as under a new banner, I shall fight and endeavour to win that
self-respect which up to now I have never been able to attain. Look
upon me as one who is dead, and try, if you can, to forgive me for
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