To
walk together down the years, meet them fearlessly, gladly, in the
thought that they but add to the fullness of your love--I know--I know.
And now that it is not to be as you thought, you say life has left
nothing to you; that you hate it; will have none of it. Oh, Ernestine, if
you could only know how rich you are!"
Then harshly, rudely, the change; the voice which had seemed to caress
each word was now like a lash.
"Suppose you didn't have the luxury of giving yourself up to your own
heart? Suppose that every day and night of your life, you had to fight
memory, knowing it held nothing for you but jeers and mockery and things
too damnable for words! Suppose you had to fairly forbid yourself to
think of the beautiful things of life! Suppose that what had been the
most beautiful moments of your life were made, by memory, the most
hideous! Suppose the memory of his kiss always brought with it the
consciousness of his falseness; that his words of love never came back to
you without the knowledge that he had been laughing at you in his heart
all the time! Suppose you could never get away from the damning truth
that what you gave from the depth of your heart was tossed aside with a
laugh! Suppose you had given the great passion of your life, the best
that was in you, to a liar and a hypocrite! Suppose you had been made a
fool of!--easy game! _Then_ what of life?--your belief in love?--thoughts
of fate? Great God, woman, can't you see what you have got?"
After the throbbing moment which followed that there came a great quiet;
slowly passion settled to sadness.
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