“I’m proud that you want me! I want to fill your heart and your life.”
“You can; you do even now! But first of all I want you to be sure—sure of yourself, dear. There must be no regrets afterward. I can’t see you again before I go, but I’ll write.”
“I shall miss you so! You will write to me!” she cried, feeling already the loneliness of the days of his impending absence. His calmness was disconcerting but she readily forgave this as she would have forgiven him anything. He was thinking of the long future no doubt, planning ways of seeing her.
“Promise me you’ll consider everything.”
“It’s enough that we love each other!” she replied softly.
“You’re not a child but a woman, able to see it all in every light. You must be very sure that you care; that you do love me.”
“I’m very sure, dear,” she said, not a little disturbed by his solicitude, fearing that he himself might now be a prey to misgivings.
“You can write to me at the addresses I’ll send. And then wire me when you’re quite sure—not till then!”
“Yes; I’ll do as you say. But tell me again that you love me! I shall be so lonely without you!”
“With all my heart I love you. I wish we need never part again. Some day that will be. Some day I can have you with me always! But now——”