myself. She will neither give nor receive an explanation.

I had supposed that her unnatural request would have been the end
of my love, but it has not; that her treatment since would have
fatally stung my pride, but it has not. I understand neither; forgive
both; love her now with that added pain which comes from a man's
discovering that the woman dearest to him must be pardoned--pardoned
as long as he shall live.

Never since have I been able to look at the red-bird with the old
gladness. He is the reminder of my loss. Reminder? Do I ever
forget? Am I not thinking of that before his notes lash my memory
at dawn? All day can they do more than furrow deeper the channel
of unforgetfulness? Little does he dream what my friendship for
him has cost me. But this solace I have at heart--that I was not
even tempted to betray him.


Three days more have passed. No sign yet that Georgiana will
relent soon or ever. Each day the strain becomes harder to bear.
My mind has dwelt upon my last meeting with her, until the truth
about it weavers upon my memory like vague, uncertain shadows.
She doubted my love for her. What proof was it she demanded? I
must stop looking at the red-bird, lying here and there under the
trees, and listening to him as he sings above me. My eyes devour
him whenever he crosses my path with an uncomprehended fascination
that is pain. How gentle he has become, and how, without intending
it, I have deepened the perils of his life by the very gentleness
that I have brought upon him. Twice already the fate of his species
has struck at him, but I have pledged myself to be his friend.