There has been a little
mistake somewhere; I am not the lost half of his soul, for all that
he is mine.
Little Constance, I think now that perhaps you were right when you
said that I was not altogether a woman. I am certainly not made as a
woman should be. A woman may return love, but she must never dare to
give it. I have been guilty of this folly, and now, what is to
become of me?
We are such fools, we women. When a man loves, he is all that he
was, plus love; when we love, we throw ourselves headlong into the
flood, and are nothing that we were.
So now you know all about it, and can prepare yourself for a gay
companion. I have made up my mind to leave England, and join you in
Vienna. No, it must be Italy; you must leave Vienna and come towards
me.
You cannot see that between the last sentence and this there is a
pause of ten minutes. It is all very well for me to talk of leaving
Graysmill; I do talk of it, the words are words, but I don't
understand them. I cannot leave; I ought to,--yet, Constance, I
cannot leave him!
Write, you, and tell me where we shall meet; not in Florence, I
could not bear that.
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