He would sun himself in her presence for one brief fortnight longer, and then go away. Surely it was not much in a life-time. He would not deprive himself of the one glimpse of sunshine that had drifted into his life.
Every day found them together.
Although Ida did not realize what was in his heart, yet she felt intuitively that there was a great change in Arthur Hollis since he had been beneath that roof.
Although he lingered with his feet on the edge of a precipice, yet he stood face to face with the truth—he loved at last with all the passionate strength of his heart and nature.
He said to himself that if marriages were made in heaven, she was the one woman intended for him; she was the only woman in this world that he could ever love.
If she had only been free, he would have given her his life, his love—all that he had on earth to give.
To make the situation all the more pitiful, he knew that she was a wife in name only to the man whose name she bore; that she was as far removed from him as though she dwelt in an opposite part of the world from him.
She was so young, so unhappy, he pitied her with all his heart. He was perplexed, agitated.
How he enjoyed the rambles, the rides with her! The sweetest moment of his life was when he could steal upon her unawares.