But it was asked with
feverish anxiety, and it required an answer. "You know I love you,
Duke. Why else should I be here?"
"It is a pity you did not take the coronet when I offered it you."
"Nay, Duke, it was no pity. Had I done so, you could not have had us
both."
"I should have wanted only you."
"And I should have stood aloof,--in despair to think that I was
separating you from those with whom your Grace is bound up so
closely. We have ever been dear friends since that."
"Yes;--we have been dear friends. But--" Then he closed his eyes, and
put his long thin fingers across his face, and lay back awhile in
silence, still holding her by the other hand. "Kiss me, Marie," he
said at last; and she stooped over him and kissed his forehead. "I
would do it now if I thought it would serve you." She only shook her
head and pressed his hand closely. "I would; I would. Such things
have been done, my dear."
"Such a thing shall never be done by me, Duke."
They remained seated side by side, the one holding the other by the
hand, but without uttering another word, till Lady Glencora returned
bringing a cup of tea and a morsel of toast in her own hand.
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