“No, Morris. I have made up my mind to play my part in harmony with Love’s eternal law. If the world is full of discord, I will still make the sweetest music my soul can sing. I will not try to drown the din, but in my own way sing in perfect time with the beat of God’s heart. Perhaps some soul beside me on life’s way will catch the note, and it will not be in vain. This may be a blind instinct, but it is not degrading. He who counts the beat of a sparrow’s wing, teaches the stork her appointed time, and whispers his call to the swallow in the autumn wind, will not lead me astray.”
The man shaded his eyes with his hand as though to hide their misery.
“You are throwing your sweet life away,” he said, reproachfully.
“But I shall find it again. When I see the fury of murder in your eyes, and gaze into the gulf of fierce passions into which Frank has descended, I cannot seek my own happiness. The sense of motherhood, the feeling of kinship to all women, brings to me again the certainty that I am right, that one great love unto death can alone give the soul peace and strength, and give to man and the world happiness.”
He bent forward quickly.
“But if he were dead you might love me?”
“Not as I love him.”
“He is dead a thousand times to you and your life,” he cried, bitterly. “He is your wilful murderer. You will see this by and by, and I will win you. I will be content with such love as you can give me. Mine will be so full, so tender, so warm it will be resistless.”
She shook his hand kindly and bade him good-by.
“I will send a carriage for you and the children to-morrow. You will go to the capital with me in my private car.”