“No, Jane, you are not comfortable there, because your heart is not with me: it is with this cousin⁠—this St. John. Oh, till this moment, I thought my little Jane was all mine! I had a belief she loved me even when she left me: that was an atom of sweet in much bitter. Long as we have been parted, hot tears as I have wept over our separation, I never thought that while I was mourning her, she was loving another! But it is useless grieving. Jane, leave me: go and marry Rivers.”

“Shake me off, then, sir⁠—push me away, for I’ll not leave you of my own accord.”

“Jane, I ever like your tone of voice: it still renews hope, it sounds so truthful. When I hear it, it carries me back a year. I forget that you have formed a new tie. But I am not a fool⁠—go⁠—”

“Where must I go, sir?”

“Your own way⁠—with the husband you have chosen.”

“Who is that?”