[Sidenote: At Sunset] They ate in silence, not because there was nothing to say, but because there was so much that words seemed empty and vain. Afterward, when the flaming tapestry in the West had faded to a pale web of rose and purple, faintly starred with exquisite lamps of gleaming pearl, he came to her, and, without speaking, took her into his arms. For a long time they stood there, heart to heart, in that rapturous communion wholly transcending sense. To him it was not because she was a woman; it was because she was Edith, the mate of his heart and soul. And, to her, it was a subtle completion of herself, the best of her answering eagerly to the best in him. At last, with a sigh, he pushed her gently away from him, and looked down into her eyes with a great sadness. "Never any more, beloved. Have you thought of that?" "Yes, I know," she whispered. "Never any more." "I'll want you always." "And I you." "Sometimes my heart will almost break with longing for you, craving the dear touch of you, though it might be only to lay my hand upon your face." [Sidenote: The Day's Duty] "Yes, I know." "And at night, when I dream that we're somewhere together, and I reach out my arms to hold you close, I'll wake with a start, to find my arms empty and my heart full." "The whole world lies between us, dear." "And heaven also, I think." "No, not heaven, for there we shall find each other again, with no barriers to keep us apart." "I shall live only to make myself worthy of finding you, dearest. I have nothing else to do." "Ah, but you have." "What?" "The day's duty, always; the thing that lies nearest your hand. You know, I've begun to see that it isn't so much our business to be happy as it is to do the things we are meant to do. And I think, too, that happiness comes most surely to those who do not go out in search of it, but do their work patiently, and wait for it to come." "That may be true for others, but not for us. What happiness is there in the world for me, apart from you?" "Memory," she reminded him gently. "We've had this much and nobody can take it away from us." [Sidenote: Memories] "But even this will hurt, heart's dearest, when we see each other no more." "Not always." As she spoke, she sat down on the ground and leaned back against a tree. He dropped down beside her, slipped his arm around her, and drew her head to his shoulder, softly kissing her hair. "I remember everything," she went on, "from the time you met me at the station. I can see you now as you came toward me, and that memory is all by itself, for nobody at the very first meeting looks the same as afterward. There is always some subtle change--I don't know why. Do I look the same to you now as I did then?" "You've always been the most beautiful thing in the world to me, since the first moment I saw you." "No, not the first moment." "When was it, then, darling?"