There!--I
had it out with myself. I may as well have it out with you! Two months
ago I was a bit in love with Cousin Philip. Now, of course, I love him--I
always shall love him--but I'm not _in_ love with him!"
"Thank the Lord!" cried French--"since it has been the object of my life
for much more than two months to persuade you to be in love with me!"
"I don't think I am--yet," said Helena slowly.
Her look was strange--half repellent. On both sides indeed there was a
note of something else than prosperous love-making. On his, the
haunting doubt lest she had so far given her heart to Philip that full
fruition for himself, that full fruition which youth at its zenith
instinctively claims from love and fortune, could never be his. On
hers, the consciousness, scarcely recognized till now, of a moment of
mental exhaustion caused by mental conflict. She was half indignant
that he should press her, yet aware that she would miss the pressure if
it ceased; while he, believing that his cause was really won, and urged
on by Peter's hints, resented the barriers she would still put up
between them.
Pages:
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369