“In spite of the fact that some of my dearest friends and members of the same social circle in which I moved attended the play that night and indulged in not a little whispering and smiling as they turned their eyes on us, I was proud. If Lannie did appear a little out of place, he was dear, true Lannie, just the same. The spirit which I knew to be encased in that noble character made up for all deficiencies in dress and manners. Each act was well received by the vast audience. As for me, the most interesting time of the performance was between acts, for it was then I could talk to Lannie and hear his voice. I saw little of the actors, for I was busy feasting my eyes on my companion. I studied his eyes, his face, and his feelings as he drank in the scenes which were enacted to the strains of music. That night my dreams were fraught with visions of strong men, happy children and contented women.
“The next day dragged slowly enough, but at last, with happy delight, I welcomed the hour of Lannie’s coming. We dined, I played and sang, Lannie told me of all the things that had transpired since I had left the forest. At eleven o’clock Lannie arose to go, all too soon for me. I begged him to stay; I laid my hand on his arm and looking straight into his strong, clear face, said: ‘Lannie, oh, Lannie, don’t you know that I love you? Can’t you see that I am dying to be taken into your arms and receive that strong yet tender embrace which I know awaits the woman you love?’
“Poor Lannie! He was dumfounded; he was white as death; not a muscle moved, not a word from those firm set lips; just a tender, pleading look from the eyes which I loved so well.
“‘Lannie, speak to me,’ I cried. ‘Oh, dearest, give me some relief, say some kind word to me or I shall surely die.’ I threw myself into his arms. I pulled him down onto the divan and clung to him as though my life depended upon it. Oh, the emotion of the soul! I sometimes think that if the world knew what a woman must suffer at such times, it would not be so unkind. I was wild, and when Lannie freed his hands from my passionate clutch and tenderly lifted me from my knees to a position beside him, my joy knew no bounds. Oh, to think that he had once again taken me in his arms. Having gotten me to a position which seemed to please him, he put his dear face to mine and kissed me. The flight of time has never erased the memory of that thrill. Love, devotion, strength, happiness, all, all I say, went surging through me like an avalanche. ‘More, more, Lannie,’ I cried, and forgot all suffering as I, in my reclining position, could see the shadow of his great form as he bent over me again. I felt his burning lips on my brow, my cheek, my lips twitched in their feverish desire to be blessed with that lingering caress which is so soothing, yet so maddening. I think I must have fainted, for when I opened my eyes, Lannie was gone.
“Next day I received a note from him saying good-bye, and that he would not call again. A tigress is not easily held at bay. My blood was aroused; my soul was fired. The lava was molten in the volcano and must find its way through the crest, no matter how many souls perished in the flood of fire. I was wild, methodically wild, and so determined was I in my purpose that I wrote him a note saying:
“‘Dear Lannie:
“‘This leaves me sick abed; please come to me. Oh, Lannie, do; I need you so much.
“‘Your Own Ailene.’
“I went to my room, had my maid dress my hair carefully, then retired. Moments seemed as hours; hours as days. I was feverish and delirious. My maid insisted on calling a physician, but I would not hear to it. I gave orders to be left alone. The breeze fanned the lace curtains at the windows in a merry ripple; the soft mellow light of the setting sun shed a glow of golden hue throughout the room. My temples throbbed, my pulse fluttered, my eyes burned, as I bravely battled to kill time. Then the thought: What if he should not come? Cold sweat took the place of parching fever, and so I passed the early evening, going from one paroxysm to another. At last the bell rang, then that voice as I heard Lannie say, ‘Thank you,’ to the maid as she opened the door. My clean white gown was badly rumpled, my well dressed hair was in a confusion of disorder from the feverish tossing of the day, but I forgot all that; I forgot my appearances, feelings, manners, everything, only that Lannie was with me again. As he bent over my bed with anxious questions, I was quite happy. Suddenly reaching out my arms, I clasped them around his neck. Oh, the holy emotions, the rage of my love knew no master. I clung to him; he tried to free himself, but no, no! I would rather have died than give him up. Great, strong Lannie of Herculean strength, one who could have held a horse, or felled an ox by a blow of his strong right arm; one who could withstand the ravages of pestilence and disease; one on whom weak men looked with that feeling of admiration born of awe; one whose strength, broad judgment, and kindly temperament made him easily the master of any and all situations. But with all his bravery and fortitude, all his battles, all his years of duration, he had never been called upon to wage war upon a woman whose soul was starving for the loving caress, which is so dear to a lonely heart. He was as wax in my hands, as I clutched him fiercely yet fondly. ‘Oh, Lannie, Lannie! say that you love me,’ I cried, all the time raining kisses on his dear face, while he acquiesced in mute silence. With his eyes dilated, his nostrils distended, his lips drawn and white, he fought the silent battle which led to his defeat. In his years of physical building he had never been called upon to withstand the onslaught which I now brought to bear upon him; he had never been drilled in the tactics necessary to repel the attacks of passion. I could see my victory coming; the light of his eyes told me that the world was fast melting away. Then suddenly he clasped me to his dear self, saying, ‘Oh, Ailene, what is it? Why can I not go away from you? Yes, little girl, I love you, I love you.’