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STRAIT IS THE GATE 184

could only repeat her words, wondering ... And as I was still on my knees: “Let us go to the bench," she went on. “Yes, I knew I was to see you again once more. For the last three days I have come here every evening and called you, as I did to-night . . . . Why didn't you answer?" “If you had not come upon me by surprise, I should have gone away without seeing you," I said, steeling myself against the emotion which had at first overmastered me. “I happened to be at Le Havre, and merely meant to walk along the avenue and round the outside of the garden and to rest a few moments on this bench, where I thought you might still come to sit sometimes, and then ... ' “Look what I have brought here to read for the last three evenings,” she interrupted, and held out to me a packet of letters; I recognised those I had written her from Italy. At that moment I raised my eyes to look at her. She was extraordinarily changed; her thinness, her paleness smote my heart horribly. Leaning heavily upon my arm, she clung to me as though she were frightened or cold. She was still in deep mourning, and, no doubt the black lace which she had put round her head, and which framed her face, added to her