your words, Elise; you see that I have preserved them in my memory
more faithfully than you, my sister."

Elise shuddered slightly. Then she said, with a painfully subdued
voice, "You were so long absent, Bertram, and I was only a child when
you left."

"The young woman wishes, then, to recall the words spoken by the
child?"

"No, Bertram, I will always love you as a sister."

Bertram sighed. "I understand you," said he, sadly; "you wish to erect
this sisterly love into an impassable barrier separating me from you,
and to pour this cool and unsubstantial affection like a soothing balm
upon my sufferings. How little do you know of love, Elise; of that
passion which desires every thing, which is satisfied with nothing
less than extreme happiness, or, failing that, extreme wretchedness,
and will accept no pitiful compromise, no miserable substitute!"

Elise looked at him firmly, with beaming eyes. She too felt that the
decisive hour had come, and that she owed the friend of her youth an
open and unreserved explanation.

"You are mistaken, Bertram," said she. "I know this love of which you
speak, and for that very reason, because I know it, I tell you I will
always love you as a sister. As a true sister I bid you welcome."

She offered him her hand; but as she read in his pale face the agony
which tormented his soul, she turned her eyes away and drew her hand