a joy the very elements of which were new to
her; different, not in degree only, but in kind, from any joy she had
experienced before. She could not so soon put it by, she could not yet
bid herself be stern.

"Look at me. Answer me. I love you. Will you marry me?" he cried.

But she _must_ bid herself be stern. "I must, I must," she thought.
She made a mighty effort.

"No," she said, in a suffocated voice, painfully.

"Oh, look at me," he pleaded. "Why do you keep your face turned away?
Why do you say no? I love you. Will you marry me? Say yes, say yes."

But she did not look at him.

"No. I can't. Don't ask me," she said.

"Why can't you? I love you. I adore you. Why should n't I ask you?"

The palest flicker of a smile passed over her face.

"I want you to marry your cousin," she said.

"Is that the only reason?"

"Is n't that a sufficient reason?"

Again there was the flicker of a smile.

"For heaven's sake, look at me. Don't keep your face turned away.
Then you don't--you don't care for me--not an atom?"

"I"--she could not deny herself one instant of weakness more, one
supreme instant; afterwards she would be stern in earnest, she would
draw back--"I never meant to let you know I did."

And for the first time between two heart-beats her eyes met his, stayed
with his.

For the time between two heart-beats, Time stood still, the world stood
still, Time and the world ceased to be. Her eyes stayed with his.
There was nothing else in all created space but her two eyes, her soft
and deep, dark and radiant eyes. Far, far within them shone a light.
Her soul came forth from its hiding place, and shining far, far within
her eyes, showed itself to his soul, yielded itself to his soul.

"Then you do--you do," he cried. It was almost a wail. The universe
reeled round him.

He had sprung to his feet. He threw himself on the bench beside her,
facing her. He seized her hands again. He tried again to get her eyes.

"No, no, no," she said, freeing her hands, shrinking from him. "No. I
don't--I don't."

"But you do. You said you did. You--you showed that you did."

He waited, triumphant, anxious, breathless.

"No, no, no. I did n't say it--I did n't mean it."

"But you did mean it. Your eyes . . ."

But when he remembered her eyes, speech deserted him. He could only
gasp and tingle.

"No, no, no," she said. "I meant nothing. Please--please don't come
so near. Stand up--t