"I do not know; nothing more than that perhaps," answered Nora, pointing
to the cloud that was now passing over the sun.
"'Nothing more than that.' Well, that has now passed, so smile forth
again, my sun!" said Herman gayly.
"Ah, dear Herman, if this happy life could only last! this life in which
we wander or repose in these beautiful summer woods, among rills and
flowers and birds! Oh, it is like the Arcadia of which you read to me in
your books, Herman! Ah, if it would only last!"
"Why should it not, love?"
"Because it cannot. Winter will come with its wind and snow and ice. The
woods will be bare, the grass dry, the flowers all withered, the streams
frozen, and the birds gone away, and we--" Here her voice sank into
silence, but Herman took up the word: "Well, and we, beloved! we shall pass to something much better! We are
not partridges or squirrels to live in the woods and fields all winter!
We shall go to our own luxurious home! You will be my loved and honored
and happy wife; the mistress of an elegant house, a fine estate, and
many negroes. You will have superb furniture, beautiful dresses,
splendid jewels, servants to attend you, carriages, horses, pleasure
boats, and everything else that heart could wish, or money buy, or love
find to make you happy! Think! Oh, think of all the joys that are in
store for you!"
"Not for me! Oh, not for me those splendors and luxuries and joys that
you speak of! They are too good for me; I shall never possess them; I
know it, Herman; and I knew it even in that hour of heavenly bliss when
you first told me you loved me! I knew it even when we stood before the
minister to be married, and I know it still! This short summer of love
will be all the joy I shall ever have."
"In the name of Heaven, Nora, what do you mean? Is it possible that you
can imagine I shall ever be false to you?" passionately demanded the
young man, who was deeply impressed at last by the sad earnestness of
her manner.
"No! no! no! I never imagine anything unworthy of your gentle and noble
nature," said Nora, with fervent emphasis as she pressed closer to his
side.
"Then why, why, do you torture yourself and me with these dark
previsions?"
"I do not know. Forgive me, Herman," softly sighed Nora, laying her
cheek against his own.