"Not so cruel as life. Not nearly. For instance, if I lived you would have to put me away, and that would be harder to bear than death—far harder."
"My darling! What are you saying?"
"It's true, dear. You know it's true. God can forgive a woman even if she's a sinner, but the world can't if she's only a victim of sin. It's part of the cruelty of things, but there's no use repining."
"Roma," said Rossi, "I take God to witness that if that were all that stood between us nothing and nobody should separate you and me. I should tell the world that you had every virtue and every heroism, and without you I could do nothing."
Her eyes filled with a fresh joy.
"You set me too high still, dear. Yet you know that I was far too small and weak for your great work. That was why I failed you at the end. It wasn't my fault that I betrayed you..."
"Don't speak of my betrayal. I thank God for it, and see now that it was the best that could have happened."
She closed her eyes. "Is it your own voice, dearest? Really yours? Hush! I shall wake and the dream will pass."
A little jet from his heart of flame burst out in spite of his warning brain, and he was carried away for the moment.
"My poor darling, you must get well for my sake. You must think of nothing but getting well. Then we'll go away somewhere—to Switzerland, as you said in your letter. Or perhaps to England, where you were born, and where your father lived his years of exile. Dear old England! Motherland of liberty! I'll show you all the places."