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ed even to this man who was her friend and talked of being her brother. She realised with terrible vividness the extent of her own passion and the appalling indifference of its objet. A wave of despair rose and swept over her heart. Her sight grew dim and she was conscious of sharp physical pain. She did not even attempt to speak, for she had no thoughts which could take the shape of words. She leaned back in her chair, and tried to draw her breath, closing her eyes, and wishing she were alone. "What is the matter?" asked the Wanderer, watching her in surprise. She did not answer. He rose and stood beside her, and lightly touched her hand. "Are you ill?" he asked again. She pushed him away, almost roughly. "No," she answered shortly. Then, all at once, as though repenting of her gesture, her hand sought his again, pressed it hard for a moment, and let it fall. "It is nothing," she said. "It will pass. Forgive me." "Did anything I said----" he began. "No, no; how absurd!" "Shall I go. Yes, you would rather be alone----" he hesitated. "No--yes--yes, go away and come back later. It is the heat perhaps; is it not hot here?" "I daresay," he answered absently. He took her hand and then left her, wondering exceedingly over a matter which was of the simplest. It was some time before Unorna realised that he was gone. She had suffered a severe shock, not to be explained by any word or words which he had spoken, as much as by the revelation of her own utter powerlessness, of her total failure to touch his heart, but most directly of all the consequence of a sincere passion which was assuming dangerous proportions and which threatened to sweep away even her pride in its irresistible course. She grew calmer when she found herself alone, but in a manner she grew also more desperate. A resolution began to form itself in her mind which she would have despised and driven out of her thoughts a few hours earlier; a resolution destined to lead to strange results. She began to think of resorting once more to a means other than natural in order to influence the man she loved. In the first moments she had felt sure of herself, and the certainty that the Wanderer had forgotten Beatrice as completely as though she had never existed had seemed to Unorna a complete triumph. With little or no common vanity she had nevertheless felt sure that the man must love her for her own sake. She knew, when she thought of
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