25/42 There is a history in those three words which neither the eloquent tongue nor the skilled pen can tell. See how coldly I speak. She grants me time; she is very merciful to-day. What would you have me say? Think of such love as yours can have been, and take twice that, and three times over, and a hundred thousand times, and cram it, burning, flaming, melting into your bursting heart--then you would know a tenth of what I have known. |