At Love's Cost

Her lips quivered, but she did not speak, and the look of trouble, of

doubt, did not leave her face. He waited, his eyes seeking hers,

seeking them for some sign which might still the passion of fear and

suspense with which he was battling, then he said in a low voice that

thrilled with the tempest of emotion which raged under his forced calm: "Will you not speak to me? Are you angry?"

She raised her head and looked at him--a strange look from so young a

girl. It was as if she were fighting against the subtle spell of his

words, the demand for her love which shone in his eyes.

"No, I am not angry," she said at last; and her voice, though very low,

was calm and unshaken.

He made a movement towards her, but she shrank back, only a little, but

perceptibly, and he checked the movement, the desire to take her in his

arms.

"You are not angry? Then--Ida--I may call you so?--you don't mind my

loving you? Dearest, will you love me just a little in return? Wait!"

for she had shrunk again, this time more plainly. "Don't--don't answer

without thinking! I know I have startled you, that I ought not to have

spoken so soon, while you only know so little of me--you'd naturally

say 'no,' and send me away. But if you think you can like me--learn to

love me--"

He took her hand, hanging so temptingly near his own; but she drew it

away.

"No; don't touch me!" she said, with a little catch in her voice. "I

want to think--to understand." She paused for a moment, her eyes still

seeking the distant hills, as if in their mysterious heights she might

find something that should explain this great mystery, this wonderful

thing that had happened to her. At last, with a singular gesture, so

girlish, so graceful that it made him long still more intensely to take

her in his arms, she said in a low voice: "I do not know--No! I do not want you to touch me, please!" His hand

fell to his side. "I can't answer you. It is so--so sudden! No one has

ever spoken to me as you have done--"

He laughed from mere excess of joy, for her pure innocence, her

unlikeness, in her ignorance of love and all pertaining to it, to the

women he knew, made the charm of her well-nigh maddening. To think that

he should be the first man to speak of love to her!