Lorraine, A Romance

She spoke, her eyes on his.

"I loved you once. I did not know it then. It was the first night there on the terrace--when they were dancing. I loved you again--after our quarrel, when you found me by the river. Again I loved you, when we were alone in the Château and you came to see me in the library."

He drew her to him, but she resisted.

"Now it is different," she said. "I do not love you--like that. I do not know what I feel; I do not care for that--for that love. I need something warmer, stronger, more kindly--something I never have had. My childhood is gone, Jack, and yet I am tortured with the craving for it; I want to be little again--I want to play with children--with young girls; I want to be tired with pleasure and go to bed with a mother bending over me. It is that--it is that that I need, Jack--a mother to hold me as you do. Oh, if you knew--if you knew! Beside my bed I feel about in the dark, half asleep, reaching out for the mother I never knew--the mother I need. I picture her; she is like my father, only she is always with me. I lie back and close my eyes and try to think that she is there in the dark--close--close. Her cheeks and hands are warm; I can never see her eyes, but I know they are like mine. I know, too, that she has always been with me--from the years that I have forgotten--always with me, watching me that I come to no harm--anxious for me, worrying because my head is hot or my hands cold. In my half-sleep I tell her things--little intimate things that she must know. We talk of everything--of papa, of the house, of my pony, of the woods and the Lisse. With her I have spoken of you often, Jack. And now all is said; I am glad you let me tell you, Jack. I can never love you like--like that, but I need you, and you will be near me, always, won't you? I need your love. Be gentle, be firm in little things. Let me come to you and fret. You are all I have."

The intense grief in her face, the wide, childish eyes, the cold little hands tightening in his, all these touched the manhood in him, and he answered manfully, putting away from himself all that was weak or selfish, all that touched on love of man for woman: "Let me be all you ask," he said. "My love is of that kind, also."