but I love him so dearly and if I were to lose his love I know I would die.
August 17.
I think my heart is dead. But no, it can’t be, for it aches too much.
Paul’s mother came here to see me to-day. She was not angry or disagreeable. I wouldn’t have been so frightened of her if she had been. As it was, I felt that I couldn’t say a word. She is very beautiful and stately and wonderful, with a low, cold voice and proud, dark eyes. Her face is like Paul's but without the lovableness of his.
She talked to me for a long time and she said terrible things — terrible, because I knew they were all true. I seemed to see everything through her eyes. She said that Paul was infatuated with my youth and beauty but that it would not last and what else had I to give him? She said Paul must marry a woman of his own class, who could do honor to his fame and position. She said that he was very talented and had a great career before him, but that if he married me it would ruin his life.
I saw it all, just as she explained it out, and I told her at last that I would not marry Paul, and she might tell him so. But she smiled and said I must tell him myself, because he would not believe any one else. I could have begged her to spare me that, but I knew it would be of no use. I do not think she has any pity or mercy for any one. Besides, what she said was quite true.
When she thanked me for being so reasonable I told her I was not doing it to please her, but for Paul’s sake, because I would not spoil his life, and that I would always hate her. She smiled again and went away.
