I have waited long for them, they can afford to have a little patience
now. And to-morrow, at this time, we shall be together, Vjera, in the
train--I will have a special carriage for you and me, and then, a night
and a day and another night and we shall be at home--for ever. How happy
we shall be! Will you not be happy with me, darling? Why do you sigh?"
"Did I sigh?" asked Vjera, trying to laugh a little.
He hardly noticed the question, but began to talk again, as he had talked
on the previous evening, describing all that he meant to do, and all that
they would do together. Vjera heard and tried not to listen. Her joy was
all gone. The great, overwhelming pleasure she had felt in dispelling his
anxiety and in averting what had seemed a near and terrible catastrophe,
gave place to the old, heartrending pity for him, as he rambled on in his
delusion. She had hoped that, as it was late on Wednesday evening, the
time of it was passed and that, for another week, he would talk no more of
his friends and his money and his return to fortune. But the fixed idea
was there still, as dominant as ever. Her light tread grew weary and her
head sank forward as she walked. For one short hour she had felt the glory
of sacrificing all she had to give, to her love. Are there many who have
felt as much, with as good reason, in a whole lifetime?
But the hour was gone, taking with it the reality and leaving in its place
a memory, fair, brilliant, and dear as the tress of golden hair Vjera was
carrying home in her parcel, but as useless perhaps and as valueless in
the world of realities as that had proved to be.
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