"My God! " he said, suddenly. "If I were to lose you, Elisabeth; if I were to lose you."
Elisabeth was afraid of so much love. It seemed to her that it must lead to sorrow.
"Sometimes," she said, as they walked on, "I wish that you did not love me so much. Of course a woman is proud and glad that a man should think so much about her, but it is possible to think too much, and to estimate a person at too high a value, isn't it?"
"That," answered Hepworth, "is a question that I can't reply to, Elisabeth. What do I know of love, except that I love you?"
"Yes," she said, "I know you love me, and I like to know it—it pleases me. But I'm not sure that I like you to love me as you do, because I think I shall disappoint you. You do see what I mean, don't you? Perhaps, I can't express it properly, but I mean that if you have such a high opinion of me you are bound to be disappointed."
"I don't think I ever think of anything like that," he replied. "Love, I should think,
