"Then it was well worth all the weariness and pain I endured to have you say this; but have you fully forgiven me, Mr. Winthrop, and may we take up our friendship as before?" "Must we take it up as before, Medoline? I have found I cannot be satisfied with your friendship only?" "I do not understand you." "You drove me away, and you have forced me to return--must I leave again? I cannot remain near you any longer with our relation to each other unchanged. I must have your love or nothing. Friendship between us, and nothing more, is out of the question. Can you not learn to love me, Medoline?" I turned and placed both my hands in his. "Does this mean love instead of fear? Remember you told me not long ago you were afraid of me; answer me truly, little one; do hand and heart go together?" "If you care to have them," I murmured softly, "but, have you forgotten Mrs. Le Grande?" "Long ago I ceased to think of her, only as one may remember a brief surrender to an ignoble passion. The mistake I made was in measuring womanhood generally by her standard--you have taught me, my darling, that angels have not yet ceased to visit our poor earth." "Oh, Mr. Winthrop, you must not go to the other extreme or I shall soon disappoint you." "You are all I could wish, Medoline. If it were possible I would not ask any change in mind or body, my Eve--fresh from the hand of God." His words frightened me; for how could I ever fulfill his expectations? He read my face. "Are you sure, Medoline, you love me as I want to be loved by my wife? Have you gained your woman's heart with its full capacity for love or suffering, or are you still only a child?" "I could die for you, Mr. Winthrop, if it were for your good; I do not ask for anything better than to be near you always in time and eternity." "Since how long have you regarded me in this way, Medoline?" "You remember that long night holding my hand, when I was at the worst of the fever? I saw everything clearly then. My spirit seemed to get away from the body, or very nearly so, and looked on things as it had never done before." "Did you wonder after that why I left you so abruptly?" "For a long time I thought you were still at Oaklands. Every day I used to hope you might come, or send me a message." "You shall never be so left again till death separates us." "If you cared for me then, why did you leave me?" I asked timidly. "If I cared for you then, Medoline! Why don't you ask me when first I began to love you?" "I did not think to ask." "Do you remember that day in the autumn when you had the Mill Road people here?" "Yes." "You came to me, if you remember, with the widow Larkum's baby in your arms, a very timid, and beseeching look on your face at the same time." I nodded in reply.