Then came the end to his romance. It was inevitable, of course. He wanted her to do more than simply listen to him--and that was just the one thing more that she could not do. It was all very tragic to both of them. Andrew was broken-hearted, full of heroics about fidelity, eternity, death. And Una--it was her first experience in human sorrow, and she was genuinely shocked and repentant. II IN UNA'S GARDEN Until David told her that evening in the garden at Stoneleigh, Una had not known that her uncle opposed her marriage. No reason was given for his opposition--and David's attitude was quite as much of a puzzle. He talked of some shadow in his past, and was on the point of telling Una what it was. But she stopped him. Their love, she said, had to do with the present, the future; it had nothing to do with the past. Nevertheless, she wished David had set himself right with Leighton. "Why didn't you answer Uncle Harold?" she asked. At first he avoided her glance, snapping his riding-whip nervously among the withered sunflower stalks. Then he turned to her. "I don't know," he said. "You knew he was wrong." "In a way--yes. And then, I wondered if, after all, he was right. As I said, I can't explain it to myself. You stopped my speaking to you about it. And yet, do you know, after talking with your uncle, I convinced myself--I thought I convinced myself--that I was unworthy of you, that our marriage would be wrong." "Don't say that!" she exclaimed angrily. "Unless your love for me has changed, it is the one right thing in the world--as mine is for you." "Beloved! Let it be so," he said, his dark mood vanishing. "Let the first day of our new life be the first day of our past. Do you remember that first day? Coming down the river we spoke hardly a word. You laughed at me, called me lazy, the boat slipped along so slowly. And you were right! Watching you I forgot the stupid business of rowing. Never before were you so beautiful--but now you are a million times more beautiful! How I wanted to kiss you! If I had dared kiss just a bit of your dress, anything blessed by touching you! But I didn't--not then! How it all happened afterward, when we landed at our island, is the mystery--or, rather, the most natural thing in the world. I was tongue-tied as ever. Not a word in the language was in reach of me--at least, I couldn't think of one. Naturally, the dictionary men left out our words; they didn't know you. And yet, we understood! Did the birds tell us, I wonder, or was it written on the trees, or whispered in the golden air? Love talks without words. But now--" he broke off abruptly--"now I must answer Uncle Harold." "Why?" "I wish I could talk it over with Raoul," he went on, not heeding the question. "Why with Raoul?" "You don't know Raoul." "Tell me about him."