“And the Golden Rock?”
“That can wait a few more months.”
“There may be others in search of it. No, you must lose no time, for success will not wait upon your leisure. Remember,” she said, with a despairing gesture, “how delay marred my plan, leaving me without a comfort or a friend in the world.”
“Are not we your friends?” they said, looking earnestly at her.
“Friends of a day—gone to-morrow—forgotten, and forgetting in a week.”
“You may forget,” murmured Frank; “but we will never.”
She looked at them a moment steadily.
“Women do not forget. Their lives are confined by convention, narrowed often by small duties—the memories they have of things outside their usual limit remain with them always. I will not forget—ah! would to Heaven I could rub out the events of the last month!”
“Would you blot us out also?”
“Why not? I cannot—but if I could, why not? You are passing away into fresh scenes and excitements, where your regrets will vanish and your memories be blurred. But what is then left for me?”