"You changed, first, towards her."

"Me!"

"Yes. From the day of her arrival in New York, she perceived in you
a certain coldness and reserve, that increased with each repeated
interview."

"Oh, no!"

"It is true. I saw it myself."

Florence clasped his hands together, and bent his eyes in doubt and
wonder upon the floor.

"Did she complain of coldness and change in me?" he inquired.

"Yes, often. And returned, last night, to leave you free, doubting
not that you had ceased to love her."

"Ceased to love her! While this sad work has been going on, I have
loved her with the agony of one who is about losing earth's most
precious thing. Oh! write to her for me, and explain all. How
strange has been my infatuation. Will you write for me?"

"Yes."

"Say that my heart has not turned from her an instant. That her
imagined coldness has made me of all men most wretched."