“What, dearest?”
“That you and I should be made happier by our common perception of the unhappiness of life?”
“Queer girl!” he thought. But he only squeezed her hand.
“The Catechism is right,” she went on, thoughtfully, proceeding to misquote it. “The waves are too strong. It’s no use fighting against your sex or your station. Do your duty in that state of life in which it has pleased God to call you. But I would have that text taught to the rich exclusively, not to the poor. The poor should be encouraged to ascend; the rich should be taught contentment. Else their strength for good is wasted fruitlessly.” And the electric current of love generated by those close-pressed palms flashed to her soul the mission of a life of noble work hand in hand.
Herbert scarcely heard her. The glow of her lovely face, the flashes of feeling that passed over it, the tears that glistened on her eyelashes—these absorbed his senses. Her generalizations were only a vague, exquisite music. He lifted her hand and held it passionately to his lips. She murmured, beseechingly:
“You will never disappoint me, Herbert?”
“My darling!” And he strove to draw her nearer and press his first kiss upon those bewitching lips.
“Oh! there’s a star falling,” she cried, and slipped from his hold, a beautiful Diana, virgin as the white spray and tameless as the night.
She had disappointed Herbert. He was puzzled. But as she disappeared round the cliff in quest of the others, a smile of triumphant content curled round his boyish lips.
“That’s the last touch of piquancy,” he murmured, as he chased her round the crag.