You must have known that, to my sin and
sorrow, I have always loved you, that you have never been an hour from
my mind, that I have longed to see your face like a sick man for the
light. Tell me, did you not know it, Beatrice?"
"How should I know?" she answered very softly; "I could only guess,
and if indeed you love me how could you wish me to marry another man? I
thought that you had learned my weakness and took this way to reproach
me. Oh, Geoffrey, what have we done? What is there between you and
me--except our love?"
"It would have been better if we had been drowned together at the
first," he said heavily.
"No, no," she answered, "for then we never should have loved one
another. Better first to love, and then to die!"
"Do not speak so," he said; "let us sit here and be happy for a little
while to-night, and leave trouble till to-morrow."
And, where on a bygone day Beatrice had tarried with another wooer, side
by side they sat upon the great stone and talked such talk as lovers
use.
Above them moaned the rising gale, though sheltered as they were by
cliffs its breath scarcely stirred their hair.
Pages:
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363