"From the first," he said, "you've meant a great deal to me, in every way. I was discontented, moody, restless, and unhappy when you came. That was mainly responsible for----"
He hesitated, glanced at her, accepted her nod of understanding, and went on.
"I've hated the vineyard and the rest of my work. God only knows how I've hated it! It's seemed sometimes that I'd die if I didn't get away from it. Mother and I had it out one day, and finally I decided to stay, merely to please her. Because I had nothing more to do than to make her happy, I determined to make the best of things. You've made me feel that, in a way, it's myself that's at stake. I want to take it and make it widely known among vineyards, as it has been--for my own sake, and for yours."
A Corner Turned
Edith leaned toward him, full into the light. Her face, still pale, was rapt--almost holy. To him, as to Madame earlier in the day, she somehow suggested the light before a shrine. "Thank you," she said. The low, full contralto tones were vibrant with emotion.
There was a pause. As though a light had been suddenly thrown upon one groping in darkness, Alden saw many things. His longing for Edith, while no less intense, became subtly different. He seemed to have turned a corner and found everything changed.
"Dear," he went on, "there's something wonderful about this. I've--" he stopped and cleared his throat. "I mean it's so exquisitely pure, so transcendently above passion. Last night, when I had you in my arms, it wasn't man and woman--it was soul and soul. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I know. Passion isn't love--any more than hunger is, but an earth-bound world seldom sees above the fog of sense."
"I could love you always," he returned, "and never so much as touch your hand or kiss you again."
She nodded, smiling full comprehension. Then she asked, briefly: "Why write?"
"Merely because we belong to one another in a divine sense, and marriage is the earthly sanction of it--or ought to be. If you and I were both free, and I thought marriage would in any way change this, I--I wouldn't ask you to marry me."
The Shadow Rose
Rising from her chair, she bent over, kissed him on the forehead, went to the lattice, picked another rose, and came back. "See," she said, standing in the light; "life and beauty and joy--all in a rose."