“No, no; I should do my very best to make you happy, and I’m certain that I should succeed. Listen to me. Even before I had seen you, Vincent’s words made me feel an interest in you. The first time that I met you I pitied you, for I saw in your whole being that you had had a great grief, that you were still in grief, and that you were unhappy. I began to think what I could do to make you happy, but I found nothing, only while I was speaking to you, and while my mind was full of thoughts, it seemed to me that there was a little more animation coming into your face, and more contentment into your words. Perhaps it was only my fancy, but it seemed so to me. I imagined, too—perhaps it was my vanity—that I myself somewhat influenced that change. I took notice of you, though you spoke to other people, but at such times you were quiet, cool, and reserved. But with me you were very different; you even grew confidential. Then it was that a great desire came over me to be all in all to you, for I thought perhaps then you would be happy, and would no longer take such a sombre view of life. Elly, dear, you are still so young, and you imagine that all is over with you. Do not think so any longer, but trust yourself to [[294]]me, and let us find out together whether life is really such a melancholy affair as you imagined. Tell me, Elly, will you do so? Will you see with me whether an entirely new life may not be yours?”
She sobbed softly, lifted up her weeping eyes, and folded her hands almost in supplication.
“Oh, why do you ask me that?” she cried. “Why must you ask me that? Why must I cause you grief? Have I not given pain to enough people already? And now must I be a misery to you as well? But it cannot be—it cannot be, never!”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” she repeated meditatively. “Because although I am still young, I am thoroughly broken. Can you not see that? Because everything in me is shattered—because I am an utter wreck.”
“Eline, use no such big words; speak calmly.”
“I use no big words. I do speak calmly. I speak with deliberation, with the deliberation of despair,” she cried rising, and she remained standing before him as he took her hand. “I speak with so much deliberation that it makes me shudder. Listen, Lawrence, you know that I have been engaged.”
“Yes. And that you have given him back his word.”
“Yes. I have given him back his word, and yet I liked him. Even while I wrote to him releasing him from his engagement, I liked him. Is that not terrible?”
He did not answer, and looked at her as if he did not understand.