I must spare her that suffering , at whatever cost to myself . I must not let myself dwell on the dangerous sweetness of the thought that her heart is turning to me . What would be the crowning joy to another man could be only added sorrow to me . Then : July Eighteenth . This morning I took the train to the city . I was determined to know the worst once for all . The time had come when I must . My doctor at home had put me off with vague hopes and perhapses . So I went to a noted physician in the city . I told him I wanted the whole truth -- I made him tell it . Stripped of all softening verbiage it is this : I have perhaps eight months or a year to live -- no more ! I had expected it , although not quite so soon . Yet the certainty was none the less bitter . But this is no time for self-pity . It is of Sylvia I must think now . I shall go away at once , before the sweet fancy which is possibly budding in her virgin heart shall have bloomed into a flower that might poison some of her fair years . July Nineteenth . It is over . I said good-bye to her to-day before others , for I dared not trust myself to see her alone . She looked hurt and startled , as if someone had struck her .
But she will soon forget , even if I have not been mistaken in the reading XXXXX her eyes .
So although at for in into of over that with