“Then this ends the matter.”
“This ends the matter,” she repeated.
“My mother is not well, she will miss you; you will stay with her just the same. She will not surmise any thing. She loves you as I did not know that one woman could love another.”
“Is that why you wish to marry me?”
“No. I know my own mind. I have loved you ever since I knew you, but I was not aware of it; I did not know it until I knew that Miss Gerard was not like you.”
“Oh, I am so sorry! This is the hardest of all. But I might grow not to like you at all; I might rush away from you; it takes so much love and confidence and sympathy to be willing to give one’s self.”
“I am not in a frame of mind to listen to such things; you forget that you have thrown me away for the sake of a whim!”
“I want to tell your mother; I can not bear for her to be so kind to me—”
“It isn’t enough to hurt me, but you must hurt her, also. She would not understand—any more than I do—why you throw me away.”
“I will not tell her, but I shall feel like a hypocrite. You will not utterly despise me.”