no time either to write or read, and I shall
not visit the hollow tree. Moreover, you, as you be loyal and true, are
to treat him fairly and kindly. If you hate my tendance of him as a
stranger and a guest, you are to be only the more courteous. In short,
as a knight peerless, you are to suffer manfully and in silence. For in
silence lies the only true dignity left us by the chances of life. You
see I own at once that you will suffer. That is inevitable; but I ask
you to take the screw like a gentleman. There is no better word yet
made.

[Sidenote: _To the Unknown Friend_]

I am forbidden to write her. I must speak to some one, to something. He
came three days ago. He is tall, black-eyed, with a laugh that rings.
When I hear that laugh, I cannot even moisten my dry tongue. I have
learned the meaning of hate. Yesterday she ran to the spring to bring
him a glass of water. (He lay lazily and let her.) I followed.

"Is that the man you said you might love?" I whispered.

It looked as if the whisper burned her cheek. She turned red to the
roots of her yellow hair. She could not look at me.

"Sir Knight," she said at last, "in the world we do not ask such
things."

So I knew.

As to my manner, I think I have obeyed her. At least, I have been
silent. But if this is to be my portion, death must come soon. For all
my body is under the sway of this great trouble. I cannot eat. My hands
seem helpless, they are so cold. My throat is choked. When have I
slept? I think my father knows, and, though I cannot speak to him,
understands, if a man for whom life is over can ever understand one at
the beginning. Yet how can he? how can he? For my mother loved him, and
gave herself to him. There is in all the world no sorrow like this of
mine. To stand by and see another man help her into the boat and row
away! To see him pin a flower in her hair with those daring hands! And
I would have died to do it. Yet last night, as I stormed through the
forest like the north wind that hates the clinging leaves, blind in the
darkness, blind from within,--and only through some forest instinct
keeping myself from crashing into tree and bush,--a moment of calm
enwrapped me as quickly as if a gossamer veil had fallen from above. I
seemed to see the meaning of things, the true meaning and value. That
he should give her a flower, should take her hand, should win her
smile--nay, the touch of her cheek, her lips--words I can scarcely
write, even here,-