You are practical and wise about all your plans.
Why has this whim of Lucy's taken hold of you as
it has? And it is only a whim; Lucy will want
something else in six months. Oh, I cannot--cannot
let you go. I'm so desolate without you--my
whole life is yours--everything I do is for you.
O Jane, my beloved, don't shut me out of your life!
I will not let you go without me!" His voice
vibrated with a certain indignation, as if he had been
unjustly treated. She raised one hand and laid
it on his forehead, smoothing his brow as a mother
would that of a child. The other still lay in his.

"Don't, John," she moaned, in a half-piteous tone.
"Don't! Don't talk so! I can only bear comforting
words to-day. I am too wretched--too utterly broken
and miserable. Please! please, John!"

He dropped her hand and leaning forward put both
of his own to his head. He knew how strong was
her will and how futile would be his efforts to
change her mind unless her conscience agreed.

"I won't," he answered, as a strong man answers
who is baffled. "I did not mean to be impatient or
exacting." Then he raised his head and looked
steadily into her eyes. "What would you have me
do, then?"

"Wait."