"But you give me no promise."

"No, I cannot--not now. I am like one staggering
along, following a dim light that leads hither
and thither, and which may any moment go out
and leave me in utter darkness."

"Then there is something you have not told me?"

"O John! Can't you trust me?"

"And yet you love me?"

"As my life, John."

When he had gone and she had closed the door
upon him, she went back to the sofa where the two
had sat together, and with her hands clasped tight
above her head, sank down upon its cushions. The
tears came like rain now, bitter, blinding tears that
she could not check.

"I have hurt him," she moaned. "He is so good,
and strong, and helpful. He never thinks of himself;
it is always of me--me, who can do nothing.
The tears were in his eyes--I saw them. Oh, I've
hurt him--hurt him! And yet, dear God, thou
knowest I could not help it."