"Then, it is scarcely necessary for me to tell you that I think this
unequal marriage would be but a brief one for you; bright at its
beginning, dark at its end. With him you would exhaust yourself in
passionate endeavors to follow where he led. He would not know this, you
would not confess it, but too late you might both learn that you were
too young, too ardent, too frail in all but the might of love, to be his
wife. It is like a woodbird mating with an eagle, straining its little
wings to scale the sky with him, blinding itself with gazing at the sun,
striving to fill and warm the wild eyrie which becomes its home, and
perishing in the stern solitude the other loves. Yet, too fond and
faithful to regret the safer nest among the grass, the gentler mate it
might have had, the summer life and winter flitting to the south for
which it was designed."
"Faith, you frighten me; you seem to see and show me all the dim
forebodings I have hidden away within myself, because I could not
understand or dared not face them. How have you learned so much? How can
you read me so well? and who told you these things of us all?"
"I had an unhappy girlhood in a discordant home; early cares and losses
made me old in youth, and taught me to observe how others bore their
burdens. Since then solitude has led me to study and reflect upon the
question toward which my thoughts inevitably turned. Concerning yourself
and your past Geoffrey told me much but Adam more."
"Have you seen him? Has he been here? When, Faith, when?"
Light and color flashed back into Sylvia's face, and the glad eagerness
of her voice was a pleasant sound to hear after the despairing accents
gone before. Faith sighed, but answered fully, carefully, while the
compassion of her look deepened as she spoke.
"I saw him but a week ago, vehement and vigorous as ever. He has come
hither often during the winter, has watched you unseen, and brought me
news of you which made Geoffrey's disclosure scarcely a surprise. He
said you bade him hear of you through me, that he preferred to come, not
write, for letters were often false interpreters, but face to face one
gets the real thought of one's friend by look, as well as word, and the
result is satisfactory."
"That is Adam! But what more did he say? How did you advise him? I know
he asked counsel of you, as we all have done."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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