"No."
"No? Ah! then I doubt no longer,—you do love me!"
"Love you! Oh, believe me, this marriage would be a blow even more severe to me than to you," said Paula, with emotion; "but," she added, "we must consider your poor mother, and not positively refuse to obey her; we must temporise; you must say you have re-considered your first refusal, and that you wish for time to reflect before you come to a determination so very serious; in fact, gain time."
"But what then—what then?"
"How do we know what the future may produce? Let us thank the destiny of the hour, the present moment—to-morrow is not ours."
"But when may I write to you—see you again? What will be the end of this love that burns, devours, kills me?"
"And it burns, devours, kills me also,—you do not suffer alone: is not that enough?"
"But what hope have I?"
"I know not. Does love for love go for nothing?"
"But if I could only see you sometimes at your own house or in society?"