Forgive me; but I think you
do wrong to cherish any hopes. I think you'd best resign yourself to
believe that all is of the past; and then try to forget."
"How do you know?" she cried, turning pale.
Again that odd look on his face, accompanied this time by a single
twitching of the lips and a momentary reflection of her own pallor.
"One can see how much you cared for him," was his reply, sadly uttered.
"Cared for him? I still care for him! How do you know he is of the past?
What makes you say that?"
"I only--look at the probabilities of the case, as others do, more calmly
than you. I feel sure he will never come back, never be heard of again in
New York. I think you ought to accustom yourself to that view; your whole
life will be darkened if you don't."
"Well, I'll not take that view. I'll be faithful to him forever. I
believe I shall hear from him yet. If not, if my life is to be darkened
by being true to him, by hoping to meet him again, let it be darkened!
I'll never give him up! Never!"
Pain showed on Turl's countenance. "You mustn't doom yourself--you
mustn't waste your life," he protested.
"Why not, if I choose? What is it to you?"
He waited a moment; then answered, simply, "I love you."
The naturalness of his announcement, as the only and complete reply to
her question, forbade resentment. Yet her face turned scarlet, and when
she spoke, after a few moments, it was with a cold finality.
"I belong to the absent--entirely and forever.
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