“You will say, perhaps,” he continued, following his own train of thought, “that I can stay in Brussels as long as I like because I travel for my pleasure. Perhaps, even, I should prefer to remain in Brussels.” [[293]]
She began to tremble all over, but she made an effort and restrained herself.
“Why should you not go further?” she murmured. “Why should you not see what you can of the world?”
“Because I’m fond of you,” he answered calmly. And his penetrating eyes looked at her fixedly. “And because I cannot bear to leave you. I should gladly stay with you, stay with you always to protect you—I shudder at having to leave you. I have a feeling when I think of my departure as if some misfortune would happen to you.”
She wanted to reply something, but she could not, for she nearly choked in repressing the tears that came to her eyes.
“But that is impossible,” she said painfully, almost despairingly.
“And why is it impossible?” he asked. “Why is it impossible that I should always stay with you, or rather that you should always stay with me? Tell me, Eline.”
“Because it cannot be,” she answered briefly.
“Oh yes, it can; if you cared for me you would not say so. I should take you with me. I should care for you. You should be my wife.”
“And I—I should make you unhappy.”