How came I to love you? When my young mind moved toward the mysteries of flesh, it was not your flesh made the search sweet. When my young spirit went upon its journey, knowing there was no end, it was not your spirit made the journey sweet. You have come late upon me: yet all my seeking is dead without you, and all my seeking has come full upon you! When I first saw you, my thought was not to kiss your mouth, but to achieve a knowledge and a power, like your own beauty’s wisdom beyond words. What mystery is this?—And what mystery is my despair to-night? Am I not close to Mildred? Could not a fool see in her luminous candor the dawn of love? There was a danger, and that danger is dead! While it lived....
I pace my room: back and forth from the recessed windows to the wall where stands a little table with a vase holding a white lily. And I try to think.
—You must see. You must understand.
Yes, yes. I have gone too far to fall back easefully on ignorance.
—You must probe. You must understand.
Yes, yes. I look at my books.
—Not that.
I think of Mildred.
—Not Mildred....
I stand still: a shudder swarms my skin, draws my throat taut, uprises in my hair....