“You do not love me. You would not hesitate if you loved me.”
“Do I not love you? I am not sure. I think I might learn to love you; but I could not go with you. No, I could not.”
“Allison, I could make you a happy woman,” said John, ending where he had begun.
“And would you be a happy man? Not if you are the good man that I have ay believed you to be. You would be wretched, John; and seeing it, could I be happy, even if my conscience slumbered?”
“Allison, do you love me, ever so little? Whatever else is to be said, look once into my face and say, ‘John, I love you.’”
She looked into his face as he bade her, and her own changed, as she met his eyes. But she did meet them bravely.
“I think I might have learned to love you—as you said—but I will not do you that wrong. You may suffer for a while, but your life will not be lost. God be with you, and fare ye well.”
She rose as she spoke. John rose also, pained and angry. He did not take the hand which she held out to him.
“Is that all you have to say to me?”
“We shall be friends always, I hope.”