Her tone was as cold and even as if she were reciting a theorem in Legendre.
“So you died because you were not true, but you did not go to heaven because you had never lived, and therefore I can not expect to find you again. I did not know before how sad such a burial is.”
“Why can not you expect to find me again?”
“To find what? That fancy? If there is any one in the world as good, as true, as strong, gentle and sympathetic as my ideal, I surely hope to find that he is in the world.”
“You thought that his name was Ralph Towne, and now you know that his name is not Ralph Towne.”
“I do not know what his name may be.”
“You think the real Ralph Towne is a stranger not worth knowing?”
“He is a stranger, certainly; whether or not he is worth knowing you know best.”
She laughed, but not the suspicion of a smile gleamed in his eyes; she had forgotten that they could be as dark and stern as this.
“Time will show you, Miss Tessa,” he said humbly.