"Dear," he said softly, "you do love me. Is it not so?"

She shook her head, but her face belied her.

"I have waited, waited for you," he pleaded, in that low tone to
which her being vibrated as to masterful music, "so many
lifetimes! I have found you out at last!"

"How long?" she asked willfully.

"Aeons," he answered. "Since the foundation of the world. I
have waited, and now that I have found you, I will not let you
go. I will not let you go!"

She looked at him with wide-opened eyes: a solemn fear possessed
her. Was it Bertuccio's story of yesterday that filled her with
foreboding? Hardly. Rather it seemed a pleasant thought that he
and she should feel the bark of one of these great trees closing
round them, and should have so beautiful a screen of brown bark
and green moss to hide their love from all the world. No, no
fear could touch the thought of any destiny with him: she was
afraid only of herself.

"You are putting a mere nothing between us," the voice went on.
"You are pretending that there is an obstacle when there is none,
really."

"Only another man's happiness," murmured the girl.