But, as she went on, her pure and exquisite love and perfect faith shining through it all seemed to draw his soul out of the mire in which it had lain. And at last they knew each other's stories and were face to face with the fateful moment of to-day, and he exclaimed gladly: "My darling, now nothing else matters--we will never, never part again." Then, as he looked into her eyes, he saw that not gladness but a solemn depth of shadow grew there, and he clasped both her hands. A cold agony chilled his whole being. What, O God, was she going to say? "John," she whispered, all the tenderness of the angels in her gentle voice as she leaned and kissed the silver threads in his dark hair. "John, do you remember, long ago when we spoke of Jason and Medea, and you asked me the question then, Must he keep his word to her even if she were a witch?--and I told you that was not the point at all: it was not because she was or was not a witch, but because it was _his word?_"--Here her voice broke, and he could hear the tears in it, and he wildly kissed her hands. Then she went on: "Oh, my dear lover, it is the same question now. _You cannot break your word._ Nothing but misfortune could follow. It is a hard law, but I know it is true, and it is fate. We put in action the force which brings all that we receive, and we who have courage pay the price without flinching, and, above and beyond all momentary pleasure or pain, we must be true to ourselves." "I cannot, I cannot!" he groaned in agony. "How can you condemn me to such a fate?--tied to this woman whose every influence is degrading to me; parted from you whom I adore--I would rather be dead. It is not fair--not just, if you only knew!" Then he continued wildly. "Ah, God--and it is all because I forgot the meaning of your dear and sacred, pledge with me that I must always be good and true! If I could suffer alone--my darling, my soul!--then I would go without a word back to hell, if you sent me. But you, too--think, Halcyone! Can you bear your life? You who are so young, separated for evermore from love and me. Oh! my own, my own--" Here he stopped his mad rush of words--her face was so white and grave--and he let her draw herself from him, and put her hands upon his shoulders, while her eyes, with tender stars of purity melting in their depths, gazed into his. "John," she said, "do not try to weaken me. All Nature, who is my friend, and the night-winds and their voices, and that dear God Who never deserts me, tell me that for no present good must we lower ourselves now. Nothing can ever hurt me. Go back and do that which being a gentleman entails upon you to do--and leave the rest to God. This is the winter of our souls, but it will not last forever. The spring is at hand, if you will only trust, and believe with me that first we on our side must be ready to pay the price."