And now promise me this upon your word.
Leave me uninfluenced; do not draw me to you to be your ruin. I make
no pretence, I have laid my life at your feet, but while I have any
strength to struggle against it, you shall never take it up unless you
can do so to your own honour, and that is not possible. Oh, my dear, we
might have been very happy together, happier than men and women often
are, but it is denied to us. We must carry our cross, we must crucify
the flesh upon it; perhaps so--who can say?--we may glorify the spirit.
I owe you a great deal. I have learnt much from you, Geoffrey. I have
learned to hope again for a Hereafter. Nothing is left to me now--but
that--that and an hour hence--your memory.
"Oh, why should I weep? It is ungrateful, when I have your love, for
which this misery is but a little price to pay. Kiss me, dear, and
go--and never see me more. You will not forget me, I know now that you
will _never_ forget me all your life. Afterwards--perhaps--who can tell?
If not, why then--it will indeed be best--to die."
* * * * *
It is not well to linger over such a scene as this.
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