There was no halting, no faltering in my intention now: "You and I, my dear, were ordained for each other.

I cannot help it that you had already suffered before I knew you.

It may be that there may be for you still suffering that I may not prevent, endurance that I may not shorten; but what a man can do is yours.

Not Hell itself will stop me, if it be possible that I may win through its torments with you in my arms!" "Will nothing stop you, then ?" Her question was breathed as softly as the strain of an AEolian harp.
"Nothing!" I said, and I heard my own teeth snap together.

There was something speaking within me stronger than I had ever known myself to be.
Again came a query, trembling, quavering, quivering, as though the issue was of more than life or death: "Not this ?" She held up a corner of the shroud, and as she saw my face and realized the answer before I spoke, went on: "With all it implies ?" "Not if it were wrought of the cerecloths of the damned!" There was a long pause.