For a moment she said no word. Then she kissed him. "There is my answer, René."
"No, no. It is over. I cannot. As a gentleman, I cannot."
Again the wholesome discipline of Friends came to her assistance. It was a serious young face she saw. He it was who was weak, and she strong.
"Trouble comes to all of us in life, René. I could not expect always to escape. It has come to us in the morning of our love. Let us meet it together. It is a terrible story, this. How can I, an inexperienced girl, know how to regard it? I am sure thou hast done what was right in thine own eyes. My mother will say thou shouldst have left it to God's justice. I do not know. I am not sure. I suppose it is because I so love thee that I do not know. We shall never speak of it again, never. It is the consequences we—yes, we—have to deal with."
"There is no way to deal with them." He was in resourceless despair.
"No, no. Friend Schmidt will return. He is sure to come, and this will all be set right. Dost thou remember how the blessed waters washed away thy care? Is not love as surely good?"
"Oh, yes; but this is different. That was a trifle."
"No; it is the waiting here for Friend Schmidt that troubles me. What is there but to wait? Thou art eager to do something; that is the man's way, and the other is the woman's way. Take thy daily swim, ride, sail; the body will help the soul. It will all come right; but not marry me! Then, René de Courval, I shall marry thee."
A divine hopefulness was in her words, and for the first time he knew what a firm and noble nature had been given the woman at his side, what power to trust, what tenderness, what common sense, and, too, what insight; for he knew she was right. The contrast to his mother was strange, and in a way distressing.