There's no use in repealing an
obsolete law. That's the pity of it! You say you lost me ten years ago.
(_A pause_.) I never lost you till now.
_Oberville_. Now?
_Isabel_. Only this morning you were my supreme court of justice; there
was no appeal from your verdict. Not an hour ago you decided a case for
me--against myself! And now--. And the worst of it is that it's not
because you've changed. How do I know if you've changed? You haven't said
a hundred words to me. You haven't been an hour in the room. And the years
must have enriched you--I daresay you've doubled your capital. You've been
in the thick of life, and the metal you're made of brightens with use.
Success on some men looks like a borrowed coat; it sits on you as though
it had been made to order. I see all this; I know it; but I don't _feel_
it. I don't feel anything... anywhere... I'm numb. (_A pause_.) Don't
laugh, but I really don't think I should know now if you came into the
room--unless I actually saw you. (_They are both silent_.)
_Oberville (at length)_. Then, to put the most merciful interpretation
upon your epigrams, your feeling for me was made out of poorer stuff than
mine for you.
_Isabel_. Perhaps it has had harder wear.
_Oberville_. Or been less cared for?
_Isabel_. If one has only one cloak one must wear it in all weathers.
_Oberville_. Unless it is so beautiful and precious that one prefers to go
cold and keep it under lock and key.
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