“Because I see—I see now,” she faltered, “that I am not fitted to become a diplomatist’s wife. I have no tact, no smartness, no experience of the kind that is so absolutely necessary for the wife and helpmate of a man who is rising to distinction. I should only be a burden. You will find some other woman more brilliant, more chic, and thoroughly versed in all the ways of Society. You must marry her;” and with a woman’s weakness she burst into tears.
“No, no!” I cried, kissing her upon the brow and drawing her closely to me in an effort to comfort her. “Who has been putting such ideas into your mind, darling? Who has told you that love can be curbed, trained, and controlled? Love does not stop to question right or wrong; it is spontaneous, irresponsible, and born of itself in one’s heart. And I love you,” I whispered into her ear.
She was silenced, as a true woman must always be by her lover’s voice, no matter how specious may be his protestations; for there is no argument that can withstand the magic of the lover’s touch or the light in the eyes of the man a woman loves, and the glamour of low, caressing words that steal their way to her innermost heart.
“Are you sure, quite sure, that you really love me sufficiently to sacrifice yourself for my sake?” she faltered through her tears.
“Sacrifice myself!” I echoed. “It is no sacrifice, darling. We love each other, and in future the course of our lives must be along the same path, no matter what may be the obstacles.”
“I wish I could think so,” she said; while a faint smile, sweet and tender as the sunshine of May, gleamed for a moment about her eyes and lips.
The heart of a woman who loves is the most complex and subtle thing on earth; and often when most she protests, she most longs to be faithless to the spirit of her own protestation.
I looked at her now fully and firmly. There was, I think, terror in my eyes—the terror of losing her, which her last words had suddenly conjured up.
“But cannot I convince you?” I cried. “Will you not accept what I tell you as the truth, darling? Will you not believe that I love you still?”
I stooped, and taking her fair face in my hands, tenderly kissed her brow, just as I had kissed her in the days when our love had dawned.