red through its own smoke, which
hung thickening under the boughs of the big tree. She approached him
from the side as he neared the plankway of the house. He saw her stop to
let him begin his ascent. In the darkness her figure was like the shadow
of a woman with clasped hands put out beseechingly. He stopped--could
not help glancing at her. In all the sombre gracefulness of the straight
figure, her limbs, features--all was indistinct and vague but the gleam
of her eyes in the faint starlight. He turned his head away and moved
on. He could feel her footsteps behind him on the bending planks, but he
walked up without turning his head. He knew what she wanted. She wanted
to come in there. He shuddered at the thought of what might happen in
the impenetrable darkness of that house if they were to find themselves
alone--even for a moment. He stopped in the doorway, and heard her say--

"Let me come in. Why this anger? Why this silence? . . . Let me watch
. . . by your side. . . . Have I not watched faithfully? Did harm ever
come to you when you closed your eyes while I was by? . . . I have
waited . .. I have waited for your smile, for your words . . . I can
wait no more.. . . Look at me . . . speak to me. Is there a bad spirit
in you? A bad spirit that has eaten up your courage and your love? Let
me touch you. Forget all . . . All. Forget the wicked hearts, the angry
faces . . . and remember only the day I came to you . . . to you! O my
heart! O my life!"

The pleading sadness of her appeal filled the space with the tremor of
her low tones, that carried tenderness and tears into the great peace
of the sleeping world. All around them the forests, the clearings, the
river, covered by the silent veil of night, seemed to wake up and listen
to her words in attentive stillness. After the sound of her voice had
died out in a stifled sigh they appeared to listen yet; and nothing
stirred among the shapeless shadows but the innumerable fireflies
that twinkled in changing clusters, in gliding pairs, in wandering and
solitary points--like the glimmering drift of scattered star-dust.

Willems turned round slowly, reluctantly, as if compelled by main force.
Her face was hidden in her hands, and he looked above her bent head,
into the sombre brilliance of the night. It was one of those nights that
give the impression of extreme vastness, when the sky seems higher, when
the passing puffs of tepid breeze seem to bring with them faint whispe