"Forget it. Let us speak only of ourselves."
But she was troubled, and Elgar, angry with himself, spoke impatiently.
"In pity for him, you would love me less. I see that."
"You are not yet satisfied? You find new ways of forcing me to say that I love you. Seem to distrust me, that I may say it over and over; make me believe you really doubt if I can be constant, just that I may hear what my heart says in its distress, and repeat it all to you. Be a little unkind to me, that I may show how your unkindness would wound me, and may entreat you back into your own true self. You can do nothing, say nothing, but I will make it afford new proofs of hew I love you."
"I had rather you made yourself less dear to me. The time will be so long. How can I live through it?"
"Will it not help you a little to help me? To know that you are unhappy would make it so much longer to me, my love."
"It will be hell to live away from you! I cannot make myself another man. If you knew what I have suffered only in these two days!"
"There was uncertainty."
"Uncertainty? Then what certainty could I ever have? Every hour spent at a distance from you will be full of hideous misgivings. Remember that every one will be doing the utmost to part us."
"Let them do the utmost twice over! You must have faith in me. Look into my eyes. Is there no assurance, no strength for you? Do they look too happy? That is because you are still here; time enough for sadness when you are gone. Oh, you think too humbly of yourself! Having loved you, and known your love, what else can the world offer me to live for?"