"Is it of that then you're dying?"
She but watched him, gravely at first, as to see, with this, where
he was, and she might have seen something or feared something that
moved her sympathy. "I would live for you still--if I could." Her
eyes closed for a little, as if, withdrawn into herself, she were
for a last time trying. "But I can't!" she said as she raised them
again to take leave of him.
She couldn't indeed, as but too promptly and sharply appeared, and
he had no vision of her after this that was anything but darkness
and doom. They had parted for ever in that strange talk; access to
her chamber of pain, rigidly guarded, was almost wholly forbidden
him; he was feeling now moreover, in the face of doctors, nurses,
the two or three relatives attracted doubtless by the presumption
of what she had to "leave," how few were the rights, as they were
called in such cases, that he had to put forward, and how odd it
might even seem that their intimacy shouldn't have given him more
of them. The stupidest fourth cousin had more, even though she had
been nothing in such a person's life.
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