"
"Nearly," she continued, "as poor a sort of creature as yourself."
"You do not understand," said Lorison, removing his hat and sweeping
back his fine, light hair. "Suppose she loved me in return, and
were willing to marry me. Think, if you can, what would follow. Never
a day would pass but she would be reminded of her sacrifice. I would
read a condescension in her smile, a pity even in her affection, that
would madden me. No. The thing would stand between us forever. Only
equals should mate. I could never ask her to come down upon my lower
plane."
An arc light faintly shone upon Lorison's face. An illumination from
within also pervaded it. The girl saw the rapt, ascetic look; it was
the face either of Sir Galahad or Sir Fool.
"Quite starlike," she said, "is this unapproachable angel. Really too
high to be grasped."
"By me, yes."
She faced him suddenly. "My dear friend, would you prefer your star
fallen?" Lorison made a wide gesture.
"You push me to the bald fact," he declared; "you are not in sympathy
with my argument. But I will answer you so. If I could reach my
particular star, to drag it down, I would not do it; but if it were
fallen, I would pick it up, and thank Heaven for the privilege."
They were silent for some minutes.
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