“Oh, Dick, there are surely plenty of things in the world besides love!” said she.
“There are, but none of them is worth working for,” said he. “There is fame; you have that—you have enjoyed it for years——”
“Enjoyed it? Enjoyed—— Ah, Dick, I have promised to marry Mr. Long in order to escape from it. Now you know why I have given him my promise. It is because I cannot live the life that is imposed on me—because I feel that if I were to continue leading this life I must one day throw myself into the Avon, seeking for rest. I hate the fame which has put my name into the mouth of every one. Oh, Dick, if you could know how all these years my heart has been singing that one anthem, ‘Oh for the wings of a dove—the wings of a dove, to fly away and be at rest!’ I have heard the boys in the Abbey sing it, but they did not know what the words meant. I know what they mean, and my heart has been singing them all these years. My soul has been so filled with that longing that there has been no room in it for any other thought—any other aspiration. You can understand me, Dick—I know that you can understand me. My father cannot. He loses patience with me; and Tom, from whom I hoped so much, he is worse than my father. He has no thought in life apart from his violin, and he is happy only when people are applauding him.”
“And Mr. Long—does he understand you?” asked Dick.
“Oh yes—yes; I feel that he does,” said the girl. “Mr. Long is so good—so kind—so considerate.”
“Oh yes; and you are still ready to do him the injustice of marrying him?” said Dick.
Her face flushed. She looked at him without speaking a word for some moments, then she turned away from him and faced the window, out of which she had been looking pensively.
He caught one of her hands from behind.
“Forgive me, dear Betsy, forgive me!” he cried passionately. “Oh, my Betsy, I did not come here to add to the burden which you have to bear; I did not mean to reproach you; only—you know—you know what is in my heart, dear—what has been in my heart all these years! I did not speak. What would have been the good of telling you? You knew it; you knew all that was in my heart!”
“I knew—I knew,” she said, and every word sounded like a sob.