“I admire her,” Tacita replied. “I have a sense of subjection in her presence which forbids me to use such a familiar word as love.”
“She builds up that barrier in spite of herself!” the brother exclaimed. “She wishes to see if any one will throw it down in order to get nearer to her. She would sometimes be glad if it were down. I know Iona.”
“You can approach her nearly,” Tacita said. “But who else would push down a barrier that she raises round herself?”
“I want you to,” Ion said earnestly. “I want Iona to have some one to whom she can unveil her mind more than she would to me even. Her relations with our people are fixed. Half by her own motion, and half with their help, she has been got on to a pedestal. She is on a pedestal even to Dylar. And there she must remain till some one helps her down. See why I am so anxious about it now.”
He took her sash end again, and held it, his fingers trembling as he went on with growing passion.
“Next year some of our young men are going out to take their places in the world. They are all two or three years older than I; but I am a century more impatient than all of them put together. Naturally I should be expected to wait. If I insist, I can go; only I am afraid it would give pain to Iona. But if you love her, you can take my place to her. She is sure to love you. I feel your sweetness all about you in the air. At the assembly a lady quoted something pretty about you:
‘Why, a stranger, when he sees her
In the street even, smileth stilly,
Just as you would at a lily.’
Don’t let this barrier grow up between you and Iona! Try to get inside of it, and help me.”