But even should I hereafter deserve and win such love as would prompt the wish, I trust you will never dream of cutting short your life because--in the ordinary course of nature--mine should end long before the term of yours." Her face again brightened, and she looked up more shyly but not less earnestly.
"I did not make my meaning clear," she replied.

"I spoke not, as my father sometimes speaks, of leaving this world, when he means to remind us that death is only a departure to another; though that was, not so long ago, the only meaning the words could bear.

I was thinking of your journey, and I want you to take me with you when you go." "You have quite settled in your own mind that I shall go! And in truth you have now removed, as you yesterday created, the only obstacle.

If you would not go with me, I might, rather than give you up, have given up the whole purpose of my enterprise, and have left my friends, and the world from which I came, ignorant whether it had ever been accomplished.

But if you accompany me, I shall certainly try to regain my own planet." "Then," she said hopefully, but half confidently, "when you go, if I have not given you cause of lasting displeasure, you _will_ take me with you?
Most men do not think much of promises, especially of promises made to women; but I have heard you speak as if to break a plighted word were a thing impossible." "I promise," I returned earnestly, very much moved by a proof of real affection such as I had no right to expect, and certainly had not anticipated.