If I no longer love Diana,' he wrote, 'what shall I do?' What could he do, with his mainspring, his prime mover gone? He had known that he would love her for ever - to the last syllable of recorded time. He had not sworn it, any more than he had sworn that the sun would rise every morning: it was too certain, too evident: no one swears that he will continue to breathe nor that twice two is four. Indeed, in such a case an oath would imply the possibility of doubt. Yet now it seemed that perpetuity meant eight years, nine months and some odd days, while the last syllable of recorded time was Wednesday, the seventeenth of May.
The narrator reflects on the profound impact of love, specifically regarding the character's feelings for Diana. He grapples with the possibility of no longer loving her, questioning how he would navigate life without her presence, which he considers essential to his existence. His unwavering commitment to loving her appeared as certain as the rising sun or fundamental truths, leading him to believe that his love was eternal and unbreakable.
However, he is confronted with a stark reality that this sense of eternity seems to have waned, measuring his devotion in years rather than infinity. The poignant realization is that what he once deemed everlasting has now diminished to a finite span, marking the specific end of that timeless love. This shift prompts a deep introspection on the nature of love and the pain of its potential loss.
