when I am gone. You will stand alone then."

"You will not go - you cannot. I have seen how you have loved all
this wonderful time. I believe it has been as dear to you as to
me. And every day I have loved you more. I depend upon you for
everything that makes life worth living. You could not - you who
are so gentle - you could not commit the senseless cruelty of
leaving me when you have taught me to love you with every beat of
my heart. I have been patient - I have held myself in, but I must
speak now. Marry me, and teach me. I know nothing. You know all I
need to know. For pity's sake be my wife."

I had not meant to say it; it broke from me in the firelight
moonlight with a power that I could not stay. She looked at me
with a disarming gentleness.

"Is this fair? Do you remember how at Peshawar I told you I
thought it was a dangerous experiment, and that it would make
things harder for you. But you took the risk like a brave man
because you felt there were things to be gained - knowledge,
insight, beauty. Have you not gained them?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

"Then, is it all loss if I go?"

"Not all. But loss I dare not face."

"I will tell you this. I could not stay if I would. Do you
remember the old man on the way to Vernag? He told me that I must