And there are others. Your people have told you
they will turn you off; the world will say things--will rend you. There
is nothing so popular for the moment as the fall of a favourite. But
that's nothing--it's nothing at all compared with the danger to yourself.
I didn't sleep last night thinking of it. Yet I'm glad you wrote me; it
gave me time to think, and I can tell you the truth as I see it. Haven't
you thought that he will drag you down, down, down, wear out your soul,
break and sicken your life, destroy your beauty--you are beautiful, my
dear, beyond what the world sees, even. Give it up--ah, give it up, and
don't break our hearts! There are too many people loving you for you to
sacrifice them--and yourself, too. . . . You've had such a good time!"
"It's been like a dream," she interrupted, in a faraway voice, "like a
dream, these two years."
"And it's been such a good dream," he urged; "and you will only go to a
bad one, from which you will never wake. The thing has fastened on him;
he will never give it up. And penniless, too--his father has cast him
off. My girl, it's impossible. Listen to me. There's no one on earth that
would do more for you than I would--no one."
"Dear, dear friend!" she cried with a sudden impulse, and caught his hand
in hers and kissed it before he could draw it back.
Pages:
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176