"I hope not—I hope not. But you are beyond such influences. It seems to me, if I may say so, that you are beyond all influences."
"Yes; as a fool is," she said, laughing.
"No; but as a rock is. I will not say as ice, for ice will always melt."
"And do I never melt, Mr. Bertram? Has that which has made you so unhappy not moved me? Do you think that I can love Caroline as I do, and not grieve, and weep, and groan in the spirit? I do grieve; I have wept for it. I am not stone."
And in this also there had been some craft. She had been as it were forced to guard the thoughts of her own heart; and had, therefore, turned the river of the conversation right through the heart of her companion.
"For whom do you weep? for which of us do you weep?" he asked.
"For both; that, having so much to enjoy, you should between you have thrown it all away."
"She will be happy. That at any rate is a consolation to me. Though you will hardly believe that."
"I hope she will. I hope she will. But, oh! Mr. Bertram, it is so fearful a risk. What—what if she should not be? What if she shall find, when the time will be too late for finding anything—what if she shall then find that she cannot love him?"
"Love him!" said the other with a sneer. "You do not know her. What need is there for love?"