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You'd feel the same way, dear child, about Derry." "No. I should not. I shouldn't feel that way at all. I should die if I lost Derry " Light leaped in her lover's eyes. But he shook his head. "She'd bear it like other brave women. She doesn't know herself, Margaret." "None of us do.
This being certain, if you will but anatomize love a little, and look narrowly into it, it will appear that no passion in the world is attended with more violent grief, more excessive joy, or greater ecstasies and fury; a lover's soul looks like Sophocles's city:
"Go!" he said hoarsely. "What?" she faltered. "Go go, in God's name! There's a door there! Can't you see it?" She had been gone for a full hour when at last he turned again. A bit of faded ribbon from her hair lay on the table. It was tied in a true lover's knot. He walked over, looked at it, drew it through his buttonhole and went slowly back to the door again.
If she had taken this cool dissector of human motives as a model, she certainly did credit to his teaching. Her curiously analytical mind is aptly illustrated by her novel method of measuring her lover's passion. He was in the habit of accompanying her home from the house of a friend.
With another bound she was at her lover's side; and slipping from her horse, she pulled off the hideous cap, cut his thongs, and then the hero-darling waited to be taken to his heart.
I fancied standing out like a bright thing in a dark crowd, and then saying "I am his!" pointing to you, and folding my arms, waiting for you to take me." The lover's imagination fired at the picture, and immediately he told a lover's lie; for the emotion excited by the thought of her glory coloured deliciously that image of her abnegation of all to him.
"Do not say that, Agatha, do not say that," said Marie, springing up and throwing herself into her lover's arms. "Indeed, indeed, it was not of that I thought. Though we should never marry, yet were you to fall, your memory should be the same to me as that of a husband. I could never forget your love your disinterested love there is no treasure on this side the grave which I so value.
They spent a time in happy talk, and Blake murmured when Millicent protested that they must go back, while she feared that her lover's exultant air would betray them as they entered the drawing-room. "Where's the key?" Challoner asked. "I'm afraid I forgot it, sir," Blake confessed. "Very sorry, but I'm not even sure I put the things away." Challoner rang a bell and gave an order to a servant.
She blushed, but did not refuse it, but the same evening she rushed into her lover's room in a state of the greatest excitement. "I am beside myself," she stammered; "I have been most deeply insulted." "By whom?" the Count asked, excitedly. "By your friend, who has dared to send me some jewelry to-day.
But there's no use in saying so to myself for it is one of those things no man believes. He may grow tired of hoping, and, saying there is none, live on. But neither he nor Fate can destroy hope any more than he can annihilate his soul. He may change in his heart. That he cannot control. When love goes no man can stay its going." "Do you think yours will go?" "No. That is a lover's answer."
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