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“After this she paid him a daily visit — always under the conviction that they were great enemies. 'Oh yes, we're intimate enemies,' Ralph used to say; and he accused her freely — as freely as the humor of it would allow — of coming to worry him to death. In reality they became excellent friends, Henrietta much wondering that she should never have liked him before. Ralph liked her exactly as much as he had always done; he had never doubted for a moment that she was an excellent fellow.They talked about everything and always differed . . .”

“The poor girl liked to be thought clever, but she hated to be thought bookish; she used to read in secret and, though her memory was excellent, to abstain from showy reference. She had a great desire for knowledge, but she really preferred almost any source of information to printed page; she had an immense curiosity about life and was constantly staring and wondering. She carried herself with a great fund of life, and her deepest enjoyment was to feel the continuity between the movements of her own soul and agitations of the world.”

“I shall stay here as long as I may, I don't want to think — I needn't think. I don't care for anything but you, and that's enough for the present. It will last a little yet. Here on my knees, with you dying in my arms, I'm happier than I've been for a long time. And I want you to be happy — not to think of anything sad; only to feel that I'm near you and I love you. Why should there be pain? In such hours as this what have we to do with pain? That's not the deepest thing; there's something deeper.”

“You did something once — you know it. O Ralph, you've been everything! What have I done for you — what can I do to-day? I would die if you could live. But I don't wish you to live; I would die myself, not to lose you." Her voice was as broken as his own and full of tears and anguish. "You won't lose me — you'll keep me. Keep me in your heart; I shall be nearer to you than I've ever been.”

“When I tell you I love you it's simply what I came for. I thought it was for something else; but it was for that. I shouldn't say it if I didn't believe I should never see you again. It's the last time — let me pluck a single flower! I've no right to say that, I know; and you've no right to listen. But you don't listen; you never listen, you're always thinking of something else.”

“After the departure of her cousin and his companions she roamed more than usual; she carried her somber spirit from one familiar shrine to the other. Even when Pansy and the Countess were with her she felt the touch of a vanished world. The carriage, leaving the walls of Rome behind, rolled through narrow lanes where the wild honeysuckle had begun to tangle itself in the hedges, or waited for her in quiet places where the fields lay near, while she strolled further and further over the flower-freckled turf, or sat on a stone that had once had a use and gazed through the veil of her personal sadness at the splendid sadness of the scene — at the dense, warm light, the far gradations and soft confusions of colour, the motionless shepherds in lonely attitudes, the hills where the cloud-shadows had the lightness of a blush.”

“Don't you know the soul is an immortal principle? How can it suffer alteration?" "I don't believe at all that it's an immortal principle. I believe it can perfectly be destroyed. That's what has happened to mine, which was a very good one to start with; and it's you I have to thank for it. You're very bad," she added with gravity in her emphasis.”

“They stood together a moment; both her hands were in both of his. 'You've been my best friend,' she said. 'It was for you that I wanted — that I wanted to live. But I'm of no use to you.' Then it came over her more poignantly that she should not see him again. She could not accept that; she could not part with him that way. 'If you should send for me I'd come,' she said at last. 'Your husband won't consent to that.' 'Oh yes, I can arrange it.' 'I shall keep that for my last pleasure!' said Ralph. In answer to which she simply kissed him.”

“She envied Ralph his dying, for if one were thinking of rest that was the most perfect of all. To cease utterly, to give it all up and not know anything more - this idea was as sweet as a vision of a cool bath in a marble tank, in a darkened chamber, in a hot land. She had moments in her journey from Rome which were almost as good as being dead. She sat in her corner, so motionless, so passive, simply with the sense of being carried, so detached from hope and regret . . .”