"That is not until August, and it is only May now," she repeated rather seriously.
"Yes, I know"-- but here Malcolm lost his self-command.

Perhaps the May sunshine dazzled him, or the soft friendliness in Elizabeth's eyes and that unvarying kindliness tried his endurance, but for once the underlying bitterness found vent.
"I cannot come before I go abroad--you, of all people, ought not to expect it! You must know how I feel--that it is not good for me! When I am with you, I can scarcely endure my pain!" He spoke harshly, almost flinging the words at her; but she answered him quite humbly.
"Forgive me, I did not want to hurt you," in a trembling voice--"I did not understand." "No, you have never understood," but there was no conciliation in his tone; "you make things harder for me.

Elizabeth, I ought not to have said this, but the happiness of these two days has been too much for me.

I will keep away until I have regained mastery over myself, and then I will come.

If you want me--if there be anything that I can do for you or your sister, you must send for me." "I could not do that," she returned, averting her face, and showers of white petals powdered the ground at her feet, as her nervous fingers unconsciously stript the stalks--"you have made that impossible," And then she continued impulsively, "Mr.Herrick, you must believe how sorry I am.