"Only this: I am sorry you are pledged."
"Why, cousin?"
"It is unfair."
"To whom?"
"To you. Bid him undo it and release you."
"What matters it?" she said, dully.
"To wed, one should love," I muttered.
"I cannot," she answered, without moving. "I would I could. This night has witched me to wish for love--to desire it; and I sit here a-thinking, a-thinking.... If love ever came to me I should think it would come now--ere the dawn; here, where all is so dark and quiet and close to God.... Cousin, this night, for the first moment in all my life, I have desired love."
"To be loved?"
"No, ... to love."