They were near an old tree whose roots ran out and then struck down into the ground. The moss and the grass had grown closely about the great trunk's foot, and made a broad seat. They sat down, by common accord.
"Can there be no end to our love—ever?" she said.
"Should we be where we are, if either of us thought it possible?" he asked.
"It must be whole—it must be endless—indeed it must," she answered—clinging to the thought which gave her most comfort.
"Do you doubt that it is?" asked Julius, the strong earnestness of his passion vibrating in his deep tones.
"No, darling," she answered; "I do not doubt it—only you must never let me."
"Indeed, indeed, I never will!" said he. He meant what he said. Men are not all intentional deceivers, but they forget. They are less faithful than women, though they are often more earnest.
Is it not the very highest power of love not to allow a doubt? And how many men can say that their lives have been so ordered toward the woman they love best, that no doubting should be reasonably possible in her mind? Few enough, I suppose.
"I have been thinking a great deal lately, Julius," said Leonora presently.
"Tell me your thoughts, dear one," said he, drawing her to him, so that her head rested on his shoulder, and his lips touched her hair.