I
felt a sudden sharp pain at my heart, a sort of aching that tingled
through me to my very finger-tips. I knew then how it was with me.
Next day I did not go to meet him in the wood as I had promised; I
went straight to the cottage; I feared myself. When he returned at
tea-time, he came up to me and took my hand with more friendship
than of wont.
"Oh, Emilia!" he cried, "why have you failed me? I have been so
anxious; I feared you were ill."
He said this as a brother might have said it; he looked me full in
the face as serenely as the stars at night. I looked back at him;
his calm fell upon me, and I laughed at myself for my fears. I got
better after that, yet not well; I was never at ease. To-day we were
together very long; I was perfectly happy; we had spoken of
beautiful things, calmly, in great peace. But at parting he forgot
to let my hand go; he held it so long that I had time to feel his,
and my blood bounded through me in great waves. I still think he
must have felt it; if he did, I can never look at him again.
I hate myself for loving him so; I hate myself that I suffer through
him; the fault seems his, being entirely mine.
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