Page:Magdalen by J S Machar.pdf/32

 and subdued, as if it were some echo from far, far away

“Future! Why should we think of something that is not yet?” she said calmly.

“No, you lack the proper understanding of this life,” he continued excitedly, “and what a fairy thing this life is! The sun, the stars, the fragrance of spring,—just think! Your dead eyes are lying somewhere down below in a coffin, and above, everything keeps growing, shining, blooming,—do you not feel a terrible, endless sorrow? And your life I swear to you, I would rather see you in that coffin than here. How will it all end? Just as with Kata, of whom your madam has been telling me to-day? Or will you grow old here in misery, slime, and shame?” My hero drew a deep breath, partly from moral excitement, partly from a feeling of pity.

“No, no, no, it will be different. It must be.”

“How?”