At his words, Natalia drew herself away in mock hauteur. "Am I to infer, sir, that you understand why I should have loved him, but not how he could have loved me?"
Morgan drew her hands into his, laughing all the time. "Yes, Natalia, I'll wager if it came to a point, that you were very much more in love with him than he was with you."
"Perhaps you are right, Morgan," Natalia answered his laugh happily. "But I did love him—I assure you."
"And it makes me wonder all the more that you fell in love with me after loving Sargent. We are not a bit alike. But then I suppose you are variable—indeed I know you are. But it's to be hoped that you will not be any more. It's a wonderful thing—how people do change their loves, isn't it?"
Natalia's eyes narrowed for a moment as she looked beyond the gate.
"Don't try to analyze love," she replied. "I tried once and it did no good. I always came back to the point that I loved you and nothing else mattered. How did I fall in love with you?" She repeated the words after him, taking hold of his hand and counting his fingers as she narrated her reasons. "Well—first, it must have been your frank admiration that touched me—I am always very sensitive to admiration. Then, you look upon life with so bright an eye, so smilingly, that it makes me feel safe and contented to know that my own too sensitive nature will bloom under your brightness. It's the contrast, Morgan, that's it. You give me what I have not. You meet a demand of my nature. It is that which makes the perfect love."
Talbot looked at her a moment, his face grown serious and almost sad. "It is not my own happiness that I ever think of—there is only one thing that could ruin that for me—losing you," he said, Natalia's hand still clasped in his own. "But when I think of the great difference between us, I wonder if it is possible for me to make you happy. I love gaiety and the world, and people, and deep down in your heart, I don't believe you do. And I can't help thinking that you do many things for my sake, isn't it so?"
Natalia shook her head slowly, and smiled. "No, I'm not doing a thing for you, Morgan, that doesn't give me pleasure. Don't try to find flaws in our love, or search for some hidden reason for unhappiness. It's too perfect as it is, and I love you better, Morgan dear, when you are not attempting an analytical state of mind." She laughed at him gayly. "You're the old-fashioned lover who brings nosegays to his lady-love, and writes her billet-doux, and is always telling her how beautiful she is—that is why I love you so, Morgan. That has always been my ideal of a lover since I was a little girl. Be that way always, please. Now shall we walk on towards the house? Oh, look, the magnolias have put on their wedding garments to do us honour. They are in full bloom!"
They passed through the gate and into the shadow of the grove where the trees were filled with gorgeous white velvety blossoms, and where in the dream shadows they lingered awhile.
They came finally upon the others grouped in the shade of the deep veranda, where Lemuel Jervais was playing the part of host by mixing them his famous sangaree, and Mrs. Houston was insisting that every one should have at least three slices of her equally famous jelly cake.