say, thus much I will tell you: I dwell with one I love. All the rest of the world may die—for me.'
There was no colour on her face as she spoke, and no tremor in her voice; she looked him full in the eyes, calmly and coldly; there was sternness and repose in her look. So might Fate itself have spoken.
He grew as pale as though she had struck him a blow which he could not return.
He drew back a step or two, and gazed at her with pain which would have been pathetic to her if she had had any sight or thought to give to him.
'All the rest of the world may die—for me.'
The words seemed to go through him and slay every hope and fancy in him: then and for evermore. They were so entirely the expression of a passion that was only so tranquil because it was so absolute. All in a moment he felt broken, bruised, grown old. His youth all at once seemed to slip away from him, never to return.
'Is that so?' he said at last. 'Then truly have I nothing to do here. I thought
