She rocked to and fro upon her knees, and hid her face in her hands to shut out the glory of beauty and calm that lay before and around her. "I never thought that love would be like this. To feel it--to be sure of it--and to have to give him to another woman!" She began to cry weakly. The moon flooded the gallery with its light. A diamond on one of Sydney's clasped hands winked as gayly as if a tragedy were not filling the girl's heart. Then oft-read words came to her lips: "Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing more courageous, nothing higher; nothing wider, nothing more pleasant; nothing fuller nor better in heaven and earth." "For it carries a burden which is no burden, and makes everything that is bitter sweet and savory." "He that loveth flieth, runneth and rejoiceth; he is free and is not bound." "He giveth all for all." "He giveth all for all." She repeated it again and again. She had, indeed, dreamed of a love for which sacrifice should be a joy. But that this should be the kind of sacrifice! Even through her wretchedness the humor of it penetrated, and a woe-begone smile fluttered over her lips. The singing words came to her again. "Let me be possessed by love, mounting above myself." "Let me love thee more than myself, and love myself only for thee." She kneeled upright and rested her folded arms upon the railing. Peace seemed to be flowing in upon her, and a purpose grew into form within her mind. With increasing control she rose to her feet. "If my love is worth anything it can do even that." Her uplifted face shone strong and beautiful as she left the splendor without, and knelt beside her bed. "O God, I thank thee that thou hast granted me the power to love. Help me now, I implore thee, to make use of this, my dearest treasure, for the joy of others." XXI A Poke Party Friedrich was sitting at his solitary breakfast. He had grown expert in the daily preparation of bacon, eggs, cornbread, and coffee; but that is a poor feast which is denied the sauce of companionship, and he dallied with his spoon, while he stared gloomily through the open door. The jaded green of the late September foliage harmonized with his mood of depression. He went to Oakwood now only so often as courteous attention to his sister-in-law--poor little girl!--seemed to demand. Sydney avoided him; and John, who still lingered, although the Schuylers had gone north long before, gave him the black looks of a jealous rival. Hilda, though never assuming before him the part of betrothed which every one assigned to her, nevertheless made him feel the bond by which he had engaged himself,--a net as fine as silk and as strong as steel; an enmeshment of chivalry and sympathy and love for his good word.