She continued—a little more quietly, but with her tone and form still vibrating.
"What do you fear? What is that you struggle against? I have seen you when it has been your will to take me—into your arms, to hold my hands. Then I have seen you conquer the desire, and you run away, as though afraid of it. Why? Do you fear that I shall seek to compromise you?—is not that the English word? Do you think that I want you to marry me? Is it because you dare not, that you—you do not offer to take my hand, even? Tell me now! Why is it?"
"For your own sake, Adrea!"
"For my own sake!" she repeated scornfully. "Do you believe it yourself? Do you really think that it is true? I will tell you why it is! It is because you have no thought, no imagination. You say to yourself, she is not of my world. I cannot marry her."
There was a silence. A burning coal fell upon the hearth, and flamed up; the glow reached Paul's face. He was very pale, and his eyes were dry and brilliant. Suddenly he moved forward, and clasped Adrea's hands tightly in his.
"But, Adrea! are you sure that you love me?"
A sudden change swept into her face. Her dark eyes grew wonderfully soft.
"Yes!" she answered, looking up to him with a swift, brilliant smile. "I am sure!"
He held out his arms; his resistance was at an end. It had grown weaker and weaker during those last few moments; now it was all over, swept away by a sudden, tumultuous passion, so strange and little akin to the man that it startled even himself. Afar off in his mind he was conscious of a dim sense of shame as he held her close in his arms and felt her warm, trembling lips pressed against his. But it was like an echo from a distant land. It seemed to him that a deep, widening gulf lay now between him and all that had gone before. His old self was dead! A new man had sprung up, with a new personality, and the time had not yet come for regrets.