There was a long silence, then Jack spoke again:
“I hoped—perhaps—that is,” he began hesitatingly—“Eileen, couldn’t you give me one word of hope to live on all the years I must be away?” He drew nearer and sat on the arm of her chair, as he had so often done through the time they had grown up together. “You’ll miss me a little, perhaps, and wish I could come back sooner—tell me, Eileen, that you’ll miss me.”
“We shall miss you terribly, Jack,” she answered, struggling to keep back the tears. “England will not be the same without you. Mother and Paddy and I will miss you terribly.”
“Is that all?”
He leant forward and clasped one hand over both hers, looking hard into her face.
“Is that all, Eileen!” and his voice was a prayer.
“I’m afraid so, Jack. Oh! I wouldn’t have hurt you like this for the world. I never dreamt! I never thought! Are you sure you mean it, Jack?—Isn’t it just a dream or something?”
“No, it is not a dream—I mean every word of it—but there is nothing for you to blame yourself about, and you must never do so. I think, perhaps, there is someone else—I was half afraid—only I wanted so to think it was a mistake.”
There was another long pause, and tears rolled slowly down Eileen’s white cheeks.
“I wish I could think that you were happy,” he said painfully. “It makes things worse going away and feeling that you are breaking your heart. It isn’t as if he were worth it. I don’t even think he could make you happy if he tried; he’s too set in his own ways and opinions.”