"Afraid?" she asked. "Of what?"
"Nay, that is what I do not know. Have you never known that feeling, Elisabeth? A sort of feeling that you are too happy—that a happiness so great cannot last? It seems to me sometimes that I am living in a dream, and that I shall wake and find that all my happiness is gone."
Elisabeth stood looking at him wonderingly. She did not altogether comprehend his meaning. But she suddenly smiled: her woman's wit suggested an answer.
"I am real enough," she said.
"Yes," he said. "You are real, Elisabeth. But even then—there, I can't explain what it is that I feel. If I were a boy perhaps I should feel light-hearted. But you see, Elisabeth, I am a man, and it seems to me that when a man loves, he loves with a passion which is terrible in its strength. Just to think—a year—nine months ago, I did not know you, and now—now—"
He broke off abruptly, and stood holding her hands and looking down at her.
