"My friend," said she, "we must never wish for the impossible. Had it been God's will that such a tie should unite us in this life, would He, forsooth, have imposed these burdens upon me which make me incapable of being else than a helpless child? Do not forget that what we call Fate, Circumstance, Relations, in life, is in reality only the work of Providence. To resist it is to resist God himself, and were it not so childish one might call it presumptuous. Men wander on earth like the stars in heaven. God has indicated the paths upon which they meet, and if they are to separate, they must. Resistance were useless, otherwise it would destroy the whole system of the world. We cannot understand it, but we can submit to it. I cannot myself understand why my inclination towards you was wrong. No! I cannot, will not call it wrong. But it cannot be, it is not to be. My friend, this is enough—we must submit in humility and faith."
Notwithstanding the calmness with which she spoke, I saw how deeply she suffered; and yet I thought it wrong to surrender so quickly in this battle of life. I restrained myself as much as I could, so that no passionate word should increase her trouble, and said:
"If this is the last time we are to meet in this life, let us see clearly to whom we offer this sacrifice. If our love violated any higher law whatsoever, I would, as you say, bow myself in humility. It were a forgetfulness of God to oppose one's self to a higher will. It may seem at times as if men could delude God, as if their small sense had gained some advantage over the Divine wisdom. This is frenzy—and the man who commences this Titanic battle; will be crushed and annihilated. But what opposes our love? Nothing but the talk of the world. I respect the customs of human society. I even respect them when, as in our time, they are over-refined and confused. A sick body needs artificial medicines, and without the barriers, the respect and the prejudices of society, at which we smile, it were impossible to hold mankind together as at present existing, and to accomplish the purpose of our temporal co-existence. We must sacrifice much to these divinities. Like the Athenians, we send every year a heavy boatload of youths and maidens as tribute to this monster which rules the labyrinth of our society. There is no longer a heart that has not broken; there is no longer a man of true feelings who has not been obliged to break the wings of his love before he came into the cage of society for rest. It must be so. It cannot be otherwise. You know not life, but thinking only of my friends, I can tell you many volumes of tragedy.
"One loved a maiden, and the love was returned; but he was poor, she was rich. The fathers and relatives wrangled and sneered, and two hearts were broken. Why? Because the world looked upon it as a misfortune for a woman to wear a dress made of the wool of a shrub in America, and not of the fibres of a worm in China.
"Another loved a maiden, and was loved in return; but he was a Protestant, she was a Catholic. The mothers and the priests bred mischief, and two hearts were broken. Why? On account of a political game of chess which Charles V and Henry VIII played together, three hundred years ago.
"A third loved a maiden, and was loved in return; but he was a noble, she a peasant. The sisters were angry, and quarreled, and two hearts were broken. Why? Because, a hundred years ago, one soldier slew another in battle, who threatened the life of his king. This gave him title and honors, and his great grandson expiated the blood shed at that time, with a disappointed life.
"The statisticians say a heart is broken every hour, and I believe it. But why? In almost every case, because the world does not recognize love between 'strange people,' unless it be between man and wife. If two maidens love the same man—the one must fall as a sacrifice. If two men love the same maiden, one or both must fall as a sacrifice. Why? Cannot one love a maiden, without wishing to marry her? Cannot one look upon a woman, without desiring her for his own? You close your eyes, and I feel I have said too much. The world has changed the most sacred things in life into the most common. But, Marie, enough! Let us talk the language of the world when we must talk, and act in it, and with it. But let us preserve a sanctuary where two hearts can speak the pure language of the heart, undisturbed by the raging of the world without. The world itself honors this seclusion, this courageous resistance, which noble hearts, conscious of their own rectitude, oppose to the ordinary course of things. The attentions, the amenities, the prejudices of the world are like a climbing plant. It is pleasant to see an ivy, with its thousand tendrils and roots, decorating the solid wall-work; but it should not be allowed too luxuriant growth, else it will penetrate every crevice of the structure, and destroy the cement which welds it together. Be mine, Marie; follow the voice of your heart. The word which now hangs upon your lips decides forever your life and mine—my happiness and yours."
I was silent. The hand I held in mine returned the warm pressure of the heart. A storm raged in her breast, and the blue heaven before me never seemed so beautiful as now, while the storm swept by, cloud upon cloud.
"Why do you love me?" said she, gently, as if she must still delay the moment of decision.
"Why, Marie? Ask the child why it is born; ask the flower why it blossoms; ask the sun why it shines. I love you because I must love you. But if I am compelled to answer further, let this book, lying by you, which you love so much, speak for me: