Have I not waited long? Pauline, my own,
What forms the substance of this mystery
Whose dark shade rests about you? Surely, friend,
The slightest will on your part would have power
To bid it off.”
“Not so,” I answer’d him
(I felt that I should tell him all at last);
“Not if the shade that so you speak of fall
From something you and I could not remove.”
“That cannot be,” he cried. “How can it be?