"Till to-morrow," she said, "that is not much time."
"It is enough,--and it is too long for a man to wait for his death sentence or for the gift of life. Oh, Ragna, I do love you so! It must be yes."
"Don't send me away, dear,--here at least I can see you, I am with you, life is possible. Let me stay a little longer!"
"No, you must go now, I can't think clearly with you here. If you want your answer to-morrow you must go now."
"I will go then, dear, since you wish it--see how obedient I am! You can do anything with me, anything, Ragna darling! Give me one kiss then and I will go?"
He bent over her but she turned her head away.
"No, not that! and you said in any case that you would be content to be a brother to me."
"But you would let a brother kiss you! Just one, darling!"
"No," she said firmly and he saw that it would be unwise to insist.
"As you will, then, dear,--see, again I yield to your wish, and to-morrow you will give me my answer--remember what it will mean to me and to you."
He rose and slowly crossed the room and, as he reached the door, turned with the one word,
Left alone, Ragna felt overwhelmed by the unexpectedness of the turn her affairs had taken and torn with doubt as to the course to pursue. She did not question Egidio's sincerity, had she not seen the tears in his eyes as he pleaded with her? And besides what ulterior motive could he possibly have? She was consumed with gratitude for his generosity, the offer of his name and protection to a girl in her position--to her it would mean salvation. Marriage with a man who knew all and in spite of it loved her still, would be a haven of refuge, it would save her reputation and give her child the advantage of a father's name. But could she accept the offer, could she accept the charity of it? True, Egidio had put it as a benefit to be conferred still more on him than on her--but even so, could she accept? With her woman's knowledge of the facts of life and marriage, could she be his wife? She did not love him and the thought of submitting to his kisses and caresses sickened her with physical repugnance--but then he had said he would be a brother, a friend, nothing more, that merely to have her by his side would satisfy him. As a friend she liked him and found him interesting, and his person was not unpleasing apart from that faint underlying sense of physical repulsion she was conscious of in his presence. Then his threat of suicide,--he meant it, she could see that! Could she take upon herself the responsibility of driving him to such desperate courses? Could she bear the thought of his blood upon her head in addition to her burthen, heavy enough already, in all conscience? Still marriage, a binding contract involving her whole life and his,--could she honestly bring herself to accept?