"And what did you think when you found he was not there?" I asked, for
at that point she had stopped.
"At first I thought he did not want to see me, and had gone away on
purpose," she answered; "then I was ill; but after that, when I began
to get better, I was afraid I had been unjust to him. There might have
been some mistake, and I was half inclined to go and see, but I was
frightened. And every day the longing grew, and I used to sit and look
at my watch, and think--'I could be there in an hour;' or, 'I might be
with him in forty minutes.' But I never went. And after a while I
could not bear it any longer, and so I came to you. But the thought of
him came with me, and the desire to know the truth grew and grew,
until at last I could bear that no longer either, and then I wrote;
and day after day I waited, and no answer came; and then I was sure he
had done it on purpose, but yet I could not bear to think it of him.
And I began not to know what people said when they spoke to me, and I
think I should have killed myself; but I come of an old race, you
know, and none of us ever did a cowardly thing, and I would rather
suffer for ever than be the first--_noblesse oblige_.
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