Since he had kissed her he had said very little; and the
silences had been broken more often by Maude than by him. She had told
him in a low voice, tremulous with love, and hesitating now and again,
how she had fallen in love with him the day he had rowed her on the
lake; how she had struggled and striven against the feeling, and how it
had conquered her. How miserable she had been, though she had tried to
hide her misery, lest he should never come to care for her, and she
should have to suffer that most merciless of all miseries--unrequited
love. She seemed as if she scarcely wanted him to speak, as if she took
it for granted that he had spoken the truth, and that he loved her; and
as if it were a joy to her to bare her heart, that he might see how
devotedly it throbbed for him and for him alone. Every now and then
Stafford spoke a few words in response. He scarcely knew what he said,
he could not have told what they were ten minutes after they were said;
he sat with his arm round her like a man playing a part mechanically.
In the same condition he moved beside her now as arm and arm they
entered the house, he looking straight before him with a set face, a
forced smile, she with now raised, now drooping eyes glowing with
triumph, a flush on her usually pale face, her lips apart and
tremulous.
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