"But
I will forgive you on one condition only."
"Name it."
"You are never to mention the subject to me again after to-night."
"I never will; but tell me, has the memory of your childhood never
come back for a moment?"
"Never. All I remember is that sense of everlasting wandering and
looking for something. For a long while I was haunted with the idea
that there was something I still must find. I never could discover
what it was, but it has left me now. If you had not been so unkind, I
should have said that it is because I am too happy for mysterious and
somewhat supernatural longings."
"But as it is, you won't. It was an odd feeling to have, though.
Perhaps it was a quest for the memories of your childhood--for a lost
existence, as it were. If ever it comes again, tell me, and we will
try and work it out together."
"Harold!" she exclaimed, smiling outright this time, "you will be
trying to analyze the cobwebs of heaven before long."
"No," he said, "they are too dense."
VI.
It was eleven o'clock when they parted for the night.
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