"Well, Edward, of course I would not wish to prevent your indulging in any harmless enjoyment, but don't people sometimes get intoxicated on beer?"
"Only slightly elevated," said Edward laughingly.
"O, Edward!" broke forth Little Wolf in agony, "I wish you could see this thing as I do but you cannot."
There was silence for a few moments, which Edward broke by saying, sympathizingly, "I know why you feel as you do, darling, and I do not wonder at it, but warned by my own, as well as the experience of others, I shall keep a strict watch over myself for your dear sake, and I assure you there is no danger of me."
"Then," said Little Wolf, despairingly, "I cannot persuade you to pledge yourself to total abstinence?"
"No," said Edward decidedly, his pride deeply wounded by her implied doubts of his inability to control his appetite, "if you feel that you cannot trust yourself with me after all I have said, I can say no more."
Had Edward fallen dead at her feet, Little Wolf could not have looked at him more hopelessly. But Edward was blind to her mute anguish, and mortified and impatient at her silence, and little dreaming of what her answer would be, he at length asked rather coolly, "Do you really feel that you cannot trust your happiness with me?"
Little Wolf struggled a moment for composure, and then bowed her head in the affirmative.
Edward's flushed face suddenly paled. "Very well," said he proudly, and without another word abruptly withdrew. His quick, impetuous footsteps echoed through the hall; the front door opened and closed, and soon the distant tinkling of bells announced that he had really gone.
As the lovely violet closes its leaves when the shadows of night gather round, so closed the flower, which, in the sunshine of love, had bloomed in the heart of Little Wolf. She neither wept nor made any other demonstration of sorrow, but as she sat silent and alone her lips grew firm, and her eyes brightened and the pupils expanded, and her whole being seemed rising up in supernatural strength to bear the blow.