“It’s hopeless, Dane; it’s hopeless! There is too much between. You must banish me from your life, and make the most of what is left. Isn’t it strange how in one of our first real talks we discussed makeshifts, and I asked you if you could manage to be happy, if you were denied the best. You answered so certainly; seemed to think it so poor-spirited to waste life in regrets. My poor Dane, now you will have to turn your words into deeds!
“By the time we return home, you will probably have left Chumley. I can feel that it would be better so. The agony of knowing that you were near, not seeing you, or seeing you only in public, would be more than I could bear, and—there is your engagement! I can’t write of that, or of her—but surely for a time at least, you would be better apart! And we must school ourselves, Dane—we must get accustomed.
“Oh, beloved, just once, before it is good-bye, I thank you for loving me,—I thank you for all you have given, I thank you for all you have received. It was only for a little time, but you did open the gates of Eden! we did walk in Paradise; we did taste and know the perfection of content! It was all beautiful, all clean, all white, and because it can’t live on and keep its beauty, we’ll bury it, Dane, deep in our hearts, and live on as bravely as we may!
“Cassandra.”
Dane’s reply came by return of post:
“Beloved! Mrs Beverley sent for me and gave me your message. I have been to see her every day since you left. I don’t know how I should have existed without her. Every day has seemed a year. I made sure you would write; I knew you must write, but it was a long waiting.
“Yes! I willed you to come to me that night. I nearly succeeded, it appears. God forgive me, I wish it had been quite! Every hour of those long days I hoped against hope for a summons from you, and then at last Wednesday came, and I made sure of meeting.—I nearly went mad, sitting in that summer-house, realising that you were not coming, imagining all kinds of wild, impossible things. It was balm to know that at least you had wanted to come.
“God bless you, my beautiful, for your sweet, words! My love for you has been the glory of my life. From the first moment that we met, you have been my Queen, and I your servant, waiting to obey. I will obey you now. Since it will be easier for you if I am at a distance, I will arrange to leave Chumley at once. Things fit in easily. I dropped Paley a hint that I was unsettled, and he sends me the kindest invitation to join him in Italy. I shall go there, I think, for the next few months, and your wonderful Grizel is already planning for the future. There are a number of wealthy relations, so to speak, at her feet, having come into their wealth through her disinterestedness in marrying Beverley, and amongst them such a thing as a small land agency should be easily obtained.
“We’ll see! I can’t think about the future at present, or anything but just—thee! There is much in your letter that I can’t answer; daren’t trust myself to answer. How could a man grow cold? But it is not for me to make things more difficult. When I realise how little I have to offer and how much you stand to lose, my lips are sealed. There could be no happiness for me, if I ruined your life.
“Mrs Beverley has done me good. I was a madman when I went to her, but she has calmed me into my right mind. She understands. I retract all I have ever said in disparagement of ‘Grizel.’ But I was jealous of her happiness, seeing You sad.