Her voice broke, and the Boy took her hand in his, tenderly, for his resentment had long since died away.
"Opal," he faltered, "I no longer know nor care who or what I am. This experience has taken me out of myself, and set my feet in strange paths. I had a life to live, Opal, but I have forgotten it in yours. I had theories, ideals, hopes, aspirations--but I don't know where they are now, Opal. They are gone--gone with your smile--"
"They will come back, Paul--they must come back! They were born in you--of Truth itself, not of a mere woman. You will forget me, Boy, and your life will not be the pitiful waste you think. It must not be!"
"I used to think that, Opal. It never seemed to me that life could ever be an utter waste so long as a man had work to do and the strength and skill to do it. But now--I'm all at sea! I only know--how--I shall miss _you!_"
"And how will it be with me?" she said sadly. "I have never learned to wear a mask. I can't pose. I can't wear 'false smiles that cover an aching heart.' Perhaps the world may teach me now--but I'm not a hypocrite--yet!"
"I believe you, Opal! I love you because you are you!"
"And I love you, Paul, because you are you!"
And even then he did not clasp her in his arms, nor attempt it. She was another's now, and his hands were tied. He must try to control his one great weakness--the longing for her.
And in the few moments left to them, they talked and cheered each other, as intimate friends on the eve of a long separation. They both knew now that they loved--but they also knew that they must part--and forever!
"I love you, Paul," said Opal, "even as you love me. I do not hesitate to confess it again, because--well, I am not yet his wife. And I want to give you this one small comfort to help to make you strong to fight and conquer, and--endure!"
"But, Opal, you are the one woman in the world God meant for me! How can I face the world without you?"
"Better that you should, Paul, and keep on fancying yourself loving me always, than that you should have me for a wife, and then weary of me, as men do weary of their wives!"
"Oh, but you might, Boy. Most men do. It's their nature, I suppose."
"But it is not _my_ nature, Opal, to grow tired of what I love. I am not capricious. Why should you think so?"