Patiently he listened to an entertaining letter from the boy who was seeing the world with a party of friends. As she read, he watched her face. It was a face to idolize, a face to covet, a face for the memory to subsist upon forever. Stealing into his troubled heart came the realization that this girl was enthroned there beside that other loved one, both for him to worship and both to worship him. There grew into shape, positive and strong, the delightful certainty that these two women could love each other and that in so loving could share his honest love, for now he believed that his love was big enough to envelope them both. As she read to him this dream mastered and enslaved him and his heart expanded, letting in the love of this second petitioner, dividing the kingdom fairly that she might reign with the one already there. He convinced himself that he loved two women honestly, purely and with his whole soul. He loved unreservedly and equally Justine, his wife, and Celeste, his friend.
"You're not listening at all," she cried, dropping the letter suddenly. "What are you thinking of?"
"Of—of the very strangest of things," he stammered.
"But not of the letter? I am so sorry I bored you with——"
"Stop! Please, stop! Pardon me, I—I—for God's sake, let me think!" he burst out, starting to his feet. He strode to the window and, with his back to her, looked out into the night. The action, sudden and inexplicable, brought flashes of red and white to her face, and then a steady glow—the flush not of indignation, but of joy. A heart throb sent the blood tingling through her veins and a smile flew to her startled face. Her eyes melted with a sweet, tender joy and her whole being was suffused with the radiance of understanding. Woman's intuition told her all, and, with clasped hands, she looked upon the motionless figure. One hand went out toward him as if to lead him into the light of her love. He loved her!
She went to the piano and gently, with a soft smile on her lips, began to play "La Paloma," the daintiest of waltzes, for her heart was dancing. At last he turned slowly and looked upon the player. Her back was toward him. His eyes took in the picture—the white shoulders and neck, the pretty head, the dark hair and the red rose. All his good resolutions, all his remorse, all his honor fled with the first glance. The dullness left his eyes and in its stead came the flaring spark of passion. He strode impulsively to her side and when she glanced up in confusion, her eyes found the refuge they had sought—the awakened love in his.
"HIS EYES TOOK IN THE PICTURE."
"O, Jud!" she murmured, faint and happy.