Once
or twice he essayed to speak, but his voice was choked by sobs,
and, after a look from the streaming eyes which Asenath could
scarcely bear to meet, he again covered his face. A stranger,
coming down the street, paused out of curiosity. "Come, come!"
cried Eli, once more, eager to escape from the scene. His daughter
stood still, and the man slowly passed on.
Asenath could not thus leave her lost lover, in his despairing
grief. She again turned to him, her own tears flowing fast and
free.
"I do not judge thee, Richard, but the words that passed between us
give me a right to speak to thee. It was hard to lose sight of
thee then, but it is still harder for me to see thee now. If the
sorrow and pity I feel could save thee, I would be willing never to
know any other feelings. I would still do anything for thee except
that which thee cannot ask, as thee now is, and I could not give.
Thee has made the gulf between us so wide that it cannot be
crossed. But I can now weep for thee and pray for thee as a
fellow-creature whose soul is still precious in the sight of the
Lord.
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