He has had brain fever since, and, as you say, I am more like what you were then than you yourself are now. It is the immediate inspiration of confidence; it alleviates pain, because we know by that smile that pain is soon to leave us; it becomes the bulwark against our depressive thoughts of death; and it is the promise that we still have a long way to go before we reach the Great Terminal. “Everything will follow,” she said. “Please stay,” she said briefly. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. ‘You wish a reason for jealousy? Eh bien, you may have it.
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