He is afraid of what may happen to me, in my life to come."I attempted to reassure her. I tried to tell her what was indeed the truth--that I had only been thinking of the ordinary chances and changes of life, when I spoke.
She paid no heed to me; she came back and put her hands on my shoulders and thoughtfully and sadly looked up in my face.
"My mind is not your mind in this matter," she said. "I once owned to you that I had my forebodings, when we first spoke of this man's return. I may tell you now, more than I told you then.
I believe I shall die young, and die miserably. If I am right, have you interest enough still left in me to wish to hear of it?"She paused, shuddering--and added these startling words:
"You _shall_ hear of it."
The tone of steady conviction in which she spoke alarmed and distressed me. My face showed her how deeply and how painfully Iwas affected.
"There, there!" she said, returning to her natural manner; "don't take what I say too seriously. A poor girl who has led a lonely life like mine thinks strangely and talks strangely--sometimes.
