Isabella's Point of View

"He asked me," said the girl. "I had known in a vague way that the question must come--and I think you knew it too, for that was what you meant the other day, wasn't it? And I was quite prepared. I meant to answer him. I meant to stick at nothing, to satisfy him whatever he asked--and I was going to lie. And as I spoke the words I knew that they were true, I knew that I loved him, Isabella. No, nothing to do with pity, although you may be right when you say that pity had something to do with it in the beginning--but love, such as I did not know was possible to me."

"And now," asked the older woman, gently, "are you glad or sorry?"

"Sorry!" she cried. "Sorry! How could I be sorry? I am glad."

"You welcome love?"

"I welcome it. It is so wonderful--so beautiful----"

"Love brings suffering."

"I am not afraid of suffering--for myself--only for him. If suffering comes, it can never take from me the joy I have known."

"The price of love is heavy."

"No matter the price, I will pay it gladly." There was no mistaking the gladness and the courage which rang in the words.

"Poor child! poor child!" said Isabella softly.

"Do not pity me. There is no need for pity," she said earnestly. "Isabella--if I lost him--to-morrow--still, I have known--but he is not going to die, he is going to live."