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IV. An Hour of Bliss and Many Hours of Sadness

           Onetouchonthatmouthagain!there,andthere,andthere.Youreyesseemheavy,Eustacia.”

           “No,itismygeneralwayoflooking.IthinkitarisesfrommyfeelingsometimesanagonizingpityformyselfthatIeverwasborn.”

           “Youdon’tfeelitnow?”

           “No.YetIknowthatweshallnotlovelikethisalways.Nothingcanensurethecontinuanceoflove.Itwillevaporatelikeaspirit,andsoIfeelfulloffears.”

           “Youneednot.”

           “Ah,youdon’tknow.YouhaveseenmorethanI,andhavebeenintocitiesandamongpeoplethatIhaveonlyheardof,andhavelivedmoreyearsthanI;butyetIamolderatthisthanyou.Ilovedanothermanonce,andnowIloveyou.”

           “InGod’smercydon’ttalkso,Eustacia!”

           “ButIdonotthinkIshallbetheonewhoweariesfirst.Itwill,Ifear,endinthisway:yourmotherwillfindoutthatyoumeetme,andshewillinfluenceyouagainstme!”

           “Thatcanneverbe.Sheknowsofthesemeetingsalready.”

           “Andshespeaksagainstme?”

           “Iwillnotsay.”

           “There,goaway!Obeyher.Ishallruinyou.Itisfoolishofyoutomeetmelikethis.Kissme,andgoawayforever.Forever—doyouhear?—forever!”

           “NotI.”

           “Itisyouronlychance.Manyaman’slovehasbeenacursetohim.”

           “Youaredesperate,fulloffancies,andwilful;andyoumisunderstand.Ihaveanadditionalreasonforseeingyoutonightbesidesloveofyou.Forthough,unlikeyou,Ifeelouraffectionmaybeeternal.Ifeelwithyouinthis,thatourpresentmodeofexistencecannotlast.”

           “Oh!’tisyourmother.Yes,that’sit!Iknewit.

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