speak. He could only stand and wait while
it wrung his heart to see her trembling, grieving lips.

His own aspect was so lamentable, that she half pitied him, half
respected him for his truth's sake. "You were right; I think it won't be
necessary for me to go to Boston," she said with a dim smile. "Good by.
It's all been a dreadful, dreadful mistake."

It was like him, even in that humiliation, not to have thought of losing
her, not to have dreamed but that he could somehow repair his error, and
she would yet willingly be his. "O no, no, no," he cried, starting
forward, "don't say that! It can't be, it mustn't be! You are angry now,
but I know you'll see it differently. Don't be so quick with me, with
yourself. I will do anything, say anything, you like."

The tears stood in her eyes; but they were cruel drops. "You can't say
anything that wouldn't make it worse. You can't undo what's been done,
and that's only a little part of what couldn't be undone. The best way
is for us to part; it's the only way."

"No, there are all the ways in the world besides! Wait--think!--I
implore you not to be so--precipitate."

The unfortunate word incensed her the more; it intimated that she was
ignorantly throwing too much away. "I am not rash now, but I was very
rash half an hour ago. I shall not change my mind again. O," she cried,
giving way, "it isn't what you've done, but what you _are_ and what _I_
am, that's the great trouble! I could easily forgive what's
happened,--if you asked it; but I couldn't alter both our whole lives,
or make myself over again, and you couldn't change yourself. Perhaps you
would try, and I know that I would, but it would be a wretched failure
and disappointment as long as we lived. I've learnt a great deal since I
first saw those people." And in truth he felt as if the young girl whom
he had been meaning to lift to a higher level than her own at his side
had somehow suddenly grown beyond him; and his heart sank. "It's foolish
to try to argue such a thing, but it's true; and you must let me go."

"I _can't_ let you go," he said in such a way, that she longed at least
to part kindly with him.

"You can make it hard for me," she answered, "but the end will be the
same."

"I won't make it hard for you, then," he returned, after a pause, in
which he grew paler and she stood with a wan face plucking the red
leaves from a low bough that stretched itself towards her.

He turned and walked away some ste