Alone with Mr. Soffy, Venna felt unusually embarrassed. There was a selfish pleasure in knowing he loved her, but the knowledge was disquieting to her conscience. She should be sorry, not glad. How weak she was in her loneliness!
The world seemed all wrong to her to-night. Here was Mr. Soffy with an impossible love, and at home were her guests with their impossible religion. Everything seemed in the wrong place.
As they left the vacant hall together, the moon was up in all her glory. The road before them was lit with a soft radiance.
"Let us walk awhile before I take you home," said Mr. Soffy. "The night is wonderful, and I want to talk to you."
"I think not to-night, Mr. Soffy, unless—you really must talk to me," Venna answered, her feelings as contradictory as her words.
"Yes, it is for your good," he replied quietly.
Venna was relieved—and with the relief, she condemned herself. The idea of her having a shade of a thought that he would speak of love.
They walked on in silence for a few moments. The night was wonderfully alluring.
"A perfect night for lovers!" thought Mr. Soffy, glancing at Venna, who was drinking in the beauty of the scene with a rapt expression. "How beautiful she is!"
"If human hearts were only as peaceful as nature!" remarked Venna quietly.