Moments like these are the mothers in travail of a resolve joylessly conceived, undesired to clasp, Necessity's offspring. Thunderclouds have as little love of the lightnings they fling.
Aminta was aware only of her torment. The trees were bending, the water hissing, the grasses all this way and that, like hands of a delirious people in surges of wreck. She scorned the meaningless shake of the garments of earth, and exclaimed: 'If we were by the sea to-night!'
'I shall be to-morrow night,' said Selina. 'I shall think of you. Oh! would you come with me?'
'Would you have me?'
'My mother will indeed be honoured by your consenting to come.'
'Write to her before the post is out.'
'We shall travel down together?'
Aminta nodded and smiled, and Selina kissed her hand in joy, saying, that down home she would not be so shy of calling her Aminta. She was bidden to haste.