He told her of his mother’s gentleness, her profound religion, her meekness compared with his father’s fierce severity, an Old Testament Christian who beat his boys if they did not go to church three times on Sunday and also to meeting on Thursday nights. “And out of that home I grew up a heathen and a publican,” he said with a smile.
Rose looked steadily before her; far off the road dwindled, and she saw Sandy racing a squirrel to a tree. “How can you?” she said at last, in a low voice.
“Confess it?” He leaned forward and touched her hand; “will you convert me?”
She looked up, their eyes met with the shock of sudden feeling. Her lip trembled like a child’s. “I’m not wise enough,” she replied simply; “you would end by laughing at me!”
His face sobered. “Am I so utterly unworthy?” he demanded.
She was silent; the water rushed and murmured beside them, and the still bright atmosphere seemed to palpitate with some great mystery; were all barriers really disappearing and a new sweet understanding emerging from the challenge of their two opposing temperaments? Her heart trembled and beat fast at the thought; it was so wild, so improbable, so dangerously sweet. Then she made one great effort to master her emotions, to be herself. She schooled herself to meet his eyes again, with that new subtle sweetness of expression in them, that delicate understanding of her mood which frightened her!
“Who am I that I should judge?” she said tremulously, with a charming smile, full of youth, simplicity, unconscious confession.
Something in the very girlishness and purity of her face, and her unguarded mood smote Fox with sudden humility; he felt himself the veriest worldling and sinner compared with her. What right had he to thrust his life into hers? His hand closed over hers with unconscious force. “Who are you?” he repeated passionately, “my guardian angel.”
Rose smiled; there were tears in her eyes but his emotion had the effect of crystallizing hers, she understood her own heart at last, and with a woman’s intuition began to hide it; she withdrew her hand gently and the horses went on.
Neither spoke; both had been deeply moved and there was a new happiness in mere companionship. It was one of those rare moments, in the higher relations between man and woman, when a new situation emerges from the old, a more beautiful understanding is established, and the exquisite gentleness of his mood was a revelation to her of a phase of his character which she had only dimly perceived.