“It does not matter,” he said, cheerfully; “I have had much food for thought while awaiting you. I have been thinking that this wonderful invention will be really your gift to humanity, not mine. Had I gone to the Farm, it would never have been. Now—!” His voice broke for joy.
“Oh, well, I don’t know ’bout that,” Lizzie said, nervously; “I guess you could ’a’ done it anywheres.”
“No, no; it would have been impossible. And think, Lizzie Graham, what it will mean to the sorrowful world! See,” he explained, solemnly; “we poor creatures have not been able to conceive that of which we have had no experience; the unborn child cannot know the meaning of life. If the babe in the womb questioned, What is birth? what is living? could even its own mother tell it? Nay! So we, questioning: ‘God, what is death? what is immortality?’ Not even God can tell us. The unborn soul, carried in the womb of Time, has waited death to know the things of Eternity, just as the unborn babe waits birth to know the things of life. But now, now, is coming to the world the gift of sight!”
There was a pause; Lizzie Graham swallowed once, and set her lips; then she said, “I am afraid, Nathaniel, that I—I can’t marry you—because—”
“Marry me?” he said, with a confused look.
“We were to get married to-day, you know, Nathaniel?”
“Oh yes,” he said.
“Yes; but—but I can’t, Nathaniel.”
“Never mind,” he said. “Shall we go now, kind woman?” He rose, smiling, and stretched out one groping hand. Involuntarily she took it; then stood still, and tried to speak. He turned patiently towards her. “Must we wait longer?” he asked, gently.
“Oh, Nathaniel, I—I don’t know what to say, but—”