I shall
remember that you heard me say that I love you!"
He threw himself back into his corner, and she shrank into hers, while
the carriage went rattling over the pavement. Aching and sore, Philip
yet knew a wild exhilaration, a certain divine madness which was so
intense a delight that it almost made him weep. It was like a religious
ecstasy, recalling to his mind moments in which he had seemed to be
lifted almost to trance-like communion with holy spirits.
"I ought to ask you to forgive me, Mrs. Fenton," he said as they drew
near her house, "but I cannot. I did not mean to do this; but I can't
regret it. I am sorry for you; I am sorry--I shall be sorry, that is--
for the sin of it; but the sin is sweet."
He wondered at his own voice, so even yet so high in pitch.
"Oh, what shall I do?" Mrs. Fenton cried sobbingly. "Is it my fault
that this happened?"
"Oh, nothing can be your fault. It is all mine! But you must love me, I
love you so!"
"No, no," she exclaimed vehemently. "I don't love you! I cannot love
you! For pity's sake don't say such things!"
She buried her face in her hands and burst into sobs.
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