What are you thinking about?
From to-day we are dead to each other.

I have done with you and you with me.

It is your own fault; you should have let me die.

Oh, John," she wailed out, "why did you not let me die?
Why did we not both die?
We should have been happy now, or--asleep.

We must part, John, we must part; and what shall I do without you, how _shall_ I live without you ?" Her distress was very poignant, and it affected him so much that for a moment he could not trust himself to answer her.
"Would it not be best to make a clean breast of it to Bessie ?" he said at last.