“Why do you dread that?” he asked.
“Because happiness is, alas! never lasting.”
“Only ours.”
“Ah!” she sighed, “let us hope so, dearest. Yet this strange presage of coming evil, this shadow which I so often seem to see, appears so real, so grim, and so threatening.”
“I don’t understand why you should entertain any fear,” he exclaimed. “I love you, Jean; I shall always love you.”
She was silent, and he saw that something troubled her. Truth to tell, the shadow of her past had once again arisen.
“Ah! But will you always love me as fondly as you now do?” she asked, rather dubiously.
“I shall, Jean. I swear it. I love no other woman but yourself, my dear, devoted wife.”
“Many men have uttered those same words before. But they have lived to recall and regret them.”