And again:
“Thou art so good,
So calm—”
And again; in a lower voice, which was almost a whisper:
“Thou lovest me;
And thou art to receive not love but faith,
For which thou wilt be mine—” etc.
He did not ask her what she thought was meant by this outburst of passion. He only looked at her once as she sat beside him, with her hands working together nervously on her lap, her “sweet eyes” upon him with a coy expression in them, and her “breathing lips” a little apart as she drank in the words and felt that something more was meant for her than a repetition of an imaginary love-sick boy’s declaration of love to his mistress. She was very quiet all through the reading, and when it was over left Craig without a word except, “Thanks for the pleasure you have given me.”
Had he been making love to her, she asked herself many times in her own room, and would he follow it up with words plainer to be understood than those spoken to Pauline. And if he did, what answer should she give.
“There is only one I can give him, and he is too good a man for that, but mamma, position, society lie that way. To take the other road would be folly,” she thought, and for an hour or more fought a fierce battle with herself and her inclination.