She nodded.
“As unfortunate as yours is,” she said, hoarsely.
“But cannot I take your lover’s place?” I bent and whispered passionately. “Will you not let me love you? I will do so with all my heart, with all my soul.”
She raised her fine eyes to mine, and after a moment’s pause, added—
“I am entirely in your hands. You say you love me now—you love me because you consider my beauty greater than that of other women; because I have fascinated you.” And sighing she slowly sank into her chair again. Then she added, “You wish me to be yours, but that I can never be. I can be your friend, but recollect I can never love you—never!” Then, putting forth her white hand she took mine, and looking into my face with a sweet, imploring expression, she went on—
“Think well of what I have said. Reflect upon my words. Surely it is best to end our friendship when you know how impossible it is for me to love you in return.”
“Then you will not allow me to take the place in your heart that your lost lover once occupied?” I said, with deep disappointment.
“It is impossible!” she answered, shaking her head gravely. “The love which comes to each of us once in a lifetime is like no other. If doomed to misfortune, it can never be replaced. None can fill the breach in a wounded heart.”
“That is only too true,” I was compelled to admit. “Yet I cannot relinquish you, Aline, because I love you.”
“You are infatuated—like other men have been,” she said, with a faint, pitying smile. “Holding you in esteem as I do, I regret it.”