Nor was it hard to find, for near where
he stood was a door opening into a small intermediate chamber,
communicating with the drawing room, and by it he fled, intending
to pass through to Lenorme's bedroom, and change his clothes.
With noiseless stride he hurried away, but could not help hearing
a few passionate words that escaped his sister's lips before Lenorme
could warn her that they were not alone--words which, it seemed
to him, could come only from a heart whose very pulse was devotion.
"How can I live without you, Raoul?" said the girl as she clung to
him.
Lenorme gave an uneasy glance behind him, saw Malcolm disappear,
and answered,
"I hope you will never try, my darling."
"Oh, but you know this can't last," she returned, with playfully
affected authority. "It must come to an end. They will interfere."
"Who can? Who will dare?" said the painter with confidence.
"People will. We had better stop it ourselves--before it all comes
out, and we are shamed," said Florimel, now with perfect seriousness.
"Shamed!" cried Lenorme. "--Well, if you can't help being ashamed
of me--and perhaps, as you have been brought up, you can't--
do you not then love me enough to encounter a little shame for my
sake? I should welcome worlds of such for yours!"
Florimel was silent.
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