“And you know now what they meant?”
He looked at her earnestly and passionately for some moments. Then his hands dropped suddenly as though they were the hands of a man who had died in a moment—his hands dropped, he turned away his face.
“God knows, God knows,” he said, with what seemed like a moan.
“Yes,” she said; “God knows, and you know as well as God that in my heart there is nothing that does not mean love for you. Does love mean blessing or doom?”
“God knows,” said he again. “Your love should mean to me the most blessed thing on earth.”
“And your love makes me most blessed among women,” said she.
This exchange of thought could scarcely be said to make easier the task which he had set himself to do before nightfall.
He seemed to become aware of this, for he went to the high mantelpiece, and stood with his hands upon it, earnestly examining the carved marble frieze, cream-tinted with age, which was on a level with his face.
She knew, however, that he was not examining the carving from the standpoint of a critic; and she waited silently for whatever was coming.
It came when he ceased his scrutiny of the classical figures in high relief, that appeared upon the marble slab.