“It is not given to me to judge what is the greatest sin a woman can commit,” Gerson Brandt answered, slowly. “I have heard that love bringeth pain and sorrow and disappointment.”
“Yet there are many who do not seem afraid to risk sorrow for love. Truly there must be some compensation for it,” said Walda.
“There is, there is,” replied the school-master. “At first it intoxicates; it bringeth fair dreams, high hopes, and a courage strong enough to face all the ills that earth can bring to men and women.”
“Surely thou speakest with authority, Gerson Brandt.” As Walda spoke there was a little smile upon her lips. “I might almost think that thou hadst known the joy and pain of loving.”
“In books I have read of the love of men and women. There is one named Shakespeare, who long ago wrote much of the history of the human heart.”
“In the Bible are many stories of the love of men and women,” said Walda, “and sometimes I have wondered why, in this late day, it should have become so wrong a thing to find on earth a dear companionship.”
Gerson Brandt turned away and walked across the room. When he came back he spoke in a steady voice.
“When the soul findeth on earth peace and happiness, it is easy to forget there is a heaven that lasts through eternity, and that these little years shall be swallowed up in the vast expanse of time. It were better to deny one’s self joy here in order to be sure of happiness hereafter.”
“But even to me earth often seems so near and dear, and heaven so far off, that now and then I can understand why the soul should reach out towards some one who could share all the little every-day happinesses and troubles,” said Walda.
“It hath been given to man always to be lonely in the world,” answered Gerson Brandt. “Each soul must travel like a stray pilgrim who can only greet other wayfarers and pass on.”