Part 38 (2/2)
”The time will come, I suppose,” said she, ”when there will be no more flowers at all.”
”Never for you, darling,” he answered lovingly. ”There will always be flowers for you--everywhere, till the end of time.”
”What is the end of time, Julius?” she asked softly.
”Time has no end for us, dear,” he said. ”For time is measured by love, and nothing can measure ours.”
They were near an old tree whose roots ran out and then struck down into the ground. The moss and the gra.s.s had grown closely about the great trunk's foot, and made a broad seat. They sat down, by common accord.
”Can there be no end to our love--ever?” she said.
”Should we be where we are, if either of us thought it possible?” he asked.
”It must be whole--it must be endless--indeed it must,” she answered--clinging to the thought which gave her most comfort.
”Do you doubt that it is?” asked Julius, the strong earnestness of his pa.s.sion vibrating in his deep tones.
”No, darling,” she answered; ”I do not doubt it--only you must never let me.”
”Indeed, indeed, I never will!” said he. He meant what he said. Men are not all intentional deceivers, but they forget. They are less faithful than women, though they are often more earnest.
Is it not the very highest power of love not to allow a doubt? And how many men can say that their lives have been so ordered toward the woman they love best, that no doubting should be reasonably possible in her mind? Few enough, I suppose.
”I have been thinking a great deal lately, Julius,” said Leonora presently.
”Tell me your thoughts, dear one,” said he, drawing her to him, so that her head rested on his shoulder, and his lips touched her hair.
”You know, dear,” said she, ”what we have done is not right--at least”--She stopped suddenly.
”Who says it is not right?” asked Julius, with a touch of scorn in his voice.
”Oh, everybody says so, of course; but that makes no difference. n.o.body would understand. It is not what people say. It is the thing.” She stared out into the woods as she leaned against him.
”How do you mean, sweetheart?” he asked.
”It is not right, you know. I am sure of it.” She shook her head gently, without lifting it. ”It is all my fault,” she added.
”You shall not say that, my own one,” said Julius, pa.s.sionately. He was really grieved and troubled beyond measure.
”Ah--but I know it so well,” said she. ”You must help me to make it right--quite right.”
”It is right--it shall be right! I will make it so,” he answered. ”Only trust me, darling, and you shall be the happiest woman the world holds, as you are the best. G.o.d bless you, dear one.” He kissed her tenderly, but she tried to turn away from him.
”Oh, no, Julius--G.o.d will not bless me. I have only you left now. You must be everything to me. Will you, dear? Say you will!”
”I do say it, my own darling,” he answered fervently. ”I will be everything to you, now and forever and ever.”
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