You have not given up earth and heaven both for me as I have done for you.
For you?
No, not for you, but for the shadow of you, for the thought of you, for these short weeks of you.

And then, an eternity of absence, and of remorse, and of oblivion--ah, if it might be oblivion for you! If I could blot out of your life this short, blighting summer; if I could put you back to where you were that fresh, sweet morning that I walked with you beside the river! I loved you from that day, Pauline, and I drugged my conscience, and refused to heed that I was doing you a wrong in teaching you to love me.

Pauline, I have to tell you a sad story: you will have to go back with me very far; you will have to hear of sins of which you never dreamed in your dear innocence.

I would spare you if I could, but you must know, for you must forgive me.

And when you have heard, you may cease to love, but I think you will forgive.