“I know it’s better to do our duty. For my sake, dearest, go back to your wife, and don’t let her ever know that you love me. It’s because we’re stronger than she that we must sacrifice ourselves.”
“A profound discouragement seized him, and silence fell upon them both. At last he released her hand.
“I don’t know any longer what’s right and what’s wrong. It all seems confused. It’s very hard.”
“It’s just as hard for me, Basil.”
“Good-bye, then,” he said broken-heartedly. “I dare say you’re right, and perhaps I should only make you very unhappy.”
“Good-bye, my dearest.”
She got up and gave him both her hands, and he bent down and kissed them. She could hardly stand the pain, and when he turned away and walked towards the door all resolution left her. She could not bear him to go—at all events, not thus coldly, not yet. She thought that perhaps this was the last time she would ever see him, and her passion, so long restrained, rose up and overpowered her, and it seemed that nothing mattered but love.
“Don’t go, Basil,” she cried. “Don’t go!”
With a cry of joy he turned, and she found herself in his arms; he kissed her violently, he kissed her mouth and her eyes and her hair; and she wept with the extremity of her desire. She cared now for nothing. All might go, and the very heavens fall; nothing in the world signified but this divine madness.
“Oh, I can’t bear it,” she moaned. “I won’t lose you. Basil, say you love me.”