"
She turned upon him, but he held up his hand, and went on:
"Oh! do not be angry with me, and do not fear that I am going to trouble
you with soft speeches, for I shall not, unless a time should come, as
I think that perhaps it will, when you may wish to listen to them. But I
want to point out something to you, Miss Clifford. Is it not a wonderful
thing that our minds should be so in tune, and is there not an object
in all this? Did I believe as you do, I should say that it was Heaven
working in us--no: do not answer that the working comes from lower down.
I take no credit for reading that upon your lips; the retort is too
easy and obvious. I am content to say, however, that the work is that
of instinct and nature, or, if you will, of fate, pointing out a road by
which together we might travel to great ends."
"I travel my road alone, Mr. Meyer."
"I know, I know, and that is the pity of it. The trouble between man and
woman is that not in one case out of a million, even if they be lovers,
do they understand each other. Their eyes may seek one another, their
hands and lips may meet, and yet they remain distinct, apart, and often
antagonistic. There is no communication of the soul. But when it chances
to be hewn from the same rock as it were--oh! then what happiness may be
theirs, and what opportunities!"
"Possibly, Mr.
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