"I was wonderfully happy, with a dreadful happiness that was two parts pain, pain for myself, and more pain for him, because he needed me, you understand, and it could not be—I could not live with him and give him the food he hungered for—love."
Isabelle kissed the wistful face, "I know," she said. "I want to tell you more—but you may not understand! … He had to go away. It was best; it was his work, his life, and I should have been a poor weak fool to let our love stand in the way. So it was decided, and I urged him to go. He came to see me at Bedmouth before he left,—a few days, a few hours of love. And we saw how it would have to be, that we should have to go on loving and living in the spirit, for as long as our love lasted, apart. We faced that. But—but—"
Margaret hesitated and then with shining eyes went on in a low voice.
"It was not enough what we had had! I was not ready to let him go, to see him go—without all. He never asked—I gave him all. We went away to have our love by ourselves,—to live for each other just a few days. He took me away in his boat, and for a few days, a few nights, we had our love—we saw our souls."
She waited, breathing fast, then controlled herself.
"Those hours were more than ordinary life. They do not seem to me real even now, or perhaps they are the most real thing in all I have known. It was love before the parting—before Fate…. When it was all over, we went back to earth. I returned, to Mother Pole's house in Bedmouth, and I went up to the children's room and took my baby in my arms and kissed her, my little girl. And I knew that it had been right, all pure and holy, and I was glad, oh, so glad that it had been, that we had had the courage!"
Isabelle pressed the hand she held close to her breast and watched the shining face.
"And I have never felt differently—never for one moment since. It was the greatest thing that ever came to me, and it seems to me that I should never really have lived if it had not been for those days—those nights and days—and the heaven that we saw!"
"Then how can you speak as if life were ended now—"
Margaret held her hand before her face and did not answer. "It might be possible—for you both…. She never really cared for Rob,—she left him and took her child when they sold their house—because she was disappointed. And she has refused to go to him ever since."