nt that love is not an illusion, but the one reality,
the one power that dispels illusion, the very essence of faith. I
shuddered when the vision passed; but its memory shall never fade. So much
I learned on that day.

And I also learned, or thought I learned, that your father's real
objection to my suit lay not so much in his hostility to my views, as in
his fear of losing you out of his life. And as I talked with him, even
plead with him, I was filled with pity and with something like remorse for
the sorrow I was to bring upon his heart. He is a saint, dear Love, but
very human. You have said that I acted like a robber toward you. I could
smile at your fury, but to your father I do indeed play the robber's part.
Yet in the end I think he will learn to trust me and will give me the one
jewel he treasures in this world. Shall a man do more than this? It is
hard to remain in this uncertainty, but our love at least is all our own.

XXXVIII

JESSICA TO PHILIP

I have just received your letter, dear lover, and as I read it, all my
lilies changed once more to roses--as they did, you remember how often,
while you were here. This is your miracle, my Philip, for in the South you
know we do not have the brilliant colour so noticeable in your Northern
women. But now I have only to think of you, to whisper your name, to
recall something you said or did, and immediately I feel the red rose of
love burn out on cheek and brow. Indeed, I think it was this magic of
colour that made the difference in my appearance which seems to have
mystified you.

And will it please you to learn that at the end of each day, as the
shadows begin to crowd down upon the world, I keep a tryst with you
beneath the old Merlin oak where you first clasped me breathless and
terrified in your arms? (Be sure, dear Heart, on this account, he will be
the first sage in the forest to wear a green beard of bloom next spring!)
And each time the memory of that moment, which began in such fright for
me, and ended in such rapture for us both, rushes over me, I wonder that I
could ever have feared the man whom I love. But you must not infer from
this that I can be prodigal of my kisses. Only, in the future, I shall
have a saner reason for withholding them,--that of economy. For if
frugality is ever wise, and extravagance forever foolish, it must be true
in love as in the less romantic experiences of life.

And now I have a sensation for you, Mr. Towers. Now