"Then you have not that empty heart, Adela? What else should make it impossible?"
"Mr. Bertram, when I came here, I had no wish, no intention to talk about myself."
"Why not of yourself as well as of me? I say again, I would we had both met earlier. It might have been that I should have been saved from this shipwreck. I will speak openly to you, Adela. Why not?" he added, seeing that she shrunk from him, and seemed as though she would move on quickly—away from his words.
"Mr. Bertram, do not say that which it will be useless for you to have said."
"It shall not be useless. You are my friend, and friends should understand each other. You know how I have loved Caroline. You believe that I have loved her, do you not?"
"Oh, yes; I do believe that."
"Well, you may; that at any rate is true. I have loved her. She will now be that man's property, and I must love her no longer."
"No; not with that sort of love."
"That sort! Are there two sorts on which a man may run the changes, as he may from one room to another? I must wipe her out of my mind—out of my heart—or burn her out. I would not wish to love anything that he possesses."
"No!" said she, "not his wife."