“And you think me fit for such priesthood?” she asked. “There are hidden fires beneath this form you deem so fair. I have never known restraint except in the willing slavery of your love. You do not know me—I warn you. I did not know myself until I felt the mad rush of blood from my heart in your arms yesterday. I am afraid of this woman I met for the first time in the wild joy of your kiss.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” he laughed, springing to his feet and striding toward her.
She trembled at his approach, but did not protest except with a helpless look in her violet eyes.
He stood for a moment towering over her, his feet braced apart, his big hands fiercely locked, his wide chest heaving with the exultant joy of the mastery of her life, his steel-gray eyes sparkling with the insolence of strength.
“We were born for one another,” he said, in low, burning tones. “It was for me you were waiting. Lo! I am here, and you are mine. In you I have seen the ideal that haunts every full-grown man’s soul, of comradeship in every work, sympathy with every hope, the glory of a perfect body, and perfect faith with perfect freedom.”
“And you see all this in me?” she asked earnestly.
“Yes. You are my affinity, nerve answering nerve, thought echoing thought. In our union I see a love so strong, of such utter surrender, of such devotion of intellect, such mystic enthusiasm and physical joy, its waves must break in ecstasy on our souls forever.”
She arose with a sigh, looked appealingly at him, and her lips mechanically said:
“It is wrong.”
But the man saw the flash of unutterable love in her eyes and the tender smile about her full lips; and laughing aloud, he took her deliberately in his arms.