"Come closer, Will. Bend your head down, and I’ll whisper something to you. It is this: Ever since you came back from Germany I have been wretched, without knowing why. Many a time I was going to tell you; then you always looked as if you were not as much my friend as you used to be, and I dared not do it. You have not been frank with me, and I have seen it often and often as I have watched you, and my heart used to lie cold and still like lead. And oh, Will, do you know what I’ve been thinking?—I’ve been thinking that you don’t love me any more!" She turned away her agonised face from him, and a slight shudder ran through her frame. "Dove, listen to me——" "And if it is true, Will," she said, with trembling lips, her face still being turned from him—"if it is true, don’t tell me that it is, Will; how could I bear to hear you say that? I should only wish to die at once, and be out of everybody’s way—out of your way too, Will, if I am in the way. I never expected to talk like this to you—never, never; for I used to think—down there in St. Mary-Kirby, you know—that you could never do anything but love me, and that we should always go on the same wherever we were. But things are all changed, Will. It was never the same after you left the last time, and since you have come back, they have changed more and more. And now up here in London, it seems as if all the old life were broken away, and we two had only been dreaming down there. And I have been sick at heart, and wretched; and when I found myself ill the other day, I wished I might die." He had destroyed that beautiful world; and he knew it, although there was no chorus of spirits to sing to him— "Weh! weh! Du hast sie zerstört, Die schöne Welt! Mit mächtiger Faust; Sie stürzt, sie zerfallt! * * * * * Prächtiger Baue sie wieder In deinem Busen baue sie auf! Neuen Lebenslauf Beginne, Wit hellem Sinne Und neue Lieder Tönen darauf!" Was it possible for him to build it up again, and restore the old love and the old confidence? It was not until this heartbroken wail was wrung from the poor girl that he fully saw the desolation that had fallen upon them. Bitterly he accused himself of all that had happened, and vainly he looked about for some brief solace he might now offer her. "You don’t say anything," she murmured, "because you have been always kind to me, and you do not wish to pain me. But I know it is true, Will, whether you speak or not. Everything is changed now—everything; and—and I’ve heard, Will, that when one is heartbroken, one dies."