A gradual melancholy descended upon the hearts of both. Over the trees the sky was a golden canopy; the grass stood a deep mist about the foxgloves’ purple towers. There were no tears in the eyes of heaven. Only the sun came streaming through the trees.
“It is better thus,” said the miser’s daughter, “for there will be no shadow between us—no reproach.”
“If I am ever a man,” he answered her, “you will have re-created me.”
“I will trust in your future.”
“Trust me, that I may trust myself.”
She came even nearer and stood very close to him, looking in his face. Her lips were parted, and there was such light in her eyes that she looked like one transfigured.
“Kiss me, Gabriel, but once.”
“Joan!”
“But once, the only time, and forever.”
“I should but wound you deeper.”