“Yes, there are nothing but memories for me, and memories may not always be pleasant things to live with. I don't know, but perhaps I should go East—I only know that I should not stay here!”
“Then, thank God you cannot go!” he said, but in the same breath he added, “I don't mean that—you know I don't, Virginia!” He looked into her face with a world of longing in his glance. “Virginia, how long is this to continue?” he asked.
She did not answer him.
“You don't answer me,” he urged.
“I have not changed; I never shall,” she said.
“If I could convince myself of that I would be silent—but I can't believe it; perhaps because I dare not! Some day you will change toward me. When I first saw you I was a boy of twenty or so—it was when Stephen brought you here; that was seventeen or eighteen years ago. I have waited all that time, and I am still waiting, and twenty years hence—only you must change, Virginia—I shall still be waiting for you; whether you value my love or not, you may be sure of that. You have always held me here; to be near you, that has been the perilous happiness I could not deny myself. I should have gone to California but for you—you kept me here, though you did not know it. I should have gone into the army when the war broke out, but I felt then, as I still feel, that it was my place to watch over you. Virginia, who else have you! Stephen has gone out of your life; you do not like Marian and you never will, so you have lost him. Of them all you have only kept me; does that mean nothing to you?” He paused. “I suppose you will come to hate me—hate me or love me—because of my insistance. But I feel that I shall go on dogging you, persecuting you with my devotion, until I force you to change! Which will it be, Virginia? It can't last so forever—which will it be—hate or love?”
“I have forbidden you—you must not speak of this to me.”
“Yes, you have forbidden it, but somehow I don't obey your commands any more. I don't even fear your displeasure. I suppose I am really beginning to persecute you! I wonder if I ever shall do that, Virginia—and I wonder why I shouldn't, my life is empty of the one great blessing I have coveted, as empty as if I had not lived at all! Do you think you have any right to make me suffer?”
“No—no, it is not I who make you suffer.”
“Yes, it is you! It is because you will abide by an ideal!”