“I’m not going till later on: luckily for the convenience of your family,” he continued, taking base refuge in sarcasm. As he spoke he felt that she was looking at him, and he turned his eyes to hers in order not to appear to be avoiding them. Their glances met for a second, and perhaps let them into each other’s meanings more deeply than either cared to go.

“Yes; it IS awfully convenient,” May brightly agreed, “that you should be able to meet Ellen after all; you saw how much Mamma appreciated your offering to do it.”

“Oh, I’m delighted to do it.”

Newland transported himself to that place of silence that he knew all too well, trying to blot out the effects of his momentary blunder. His mind wandered into those far regions where sad circumstances forced him to cabin his Ellen from the rest of his life. It was so uncharacteristic for him to hide and suppress the truth of his heart. But what choice did he have? Society was suffocating him with its rules and obligations. He thought of the two-hour journey it would require to reach the Countess, and the two hours, perhaps more, that it would take to escort his Ellen back to her Granny’s.

Newland anticipated seeing Ellen’s angelic face, specially crafted by the gods in heaven. Every inch of her delicately defined features were etched in his mind indelibly. Not even the ill words from family or acquaintances could mar this image. He had made sure to keep his portrait of Ellen pristine and out of reach of those with soot in their minds or slag in their hearts.

Newland thought of the moment when his eyes would meet hers. Would she shy away or beam like a radiant star and race into his arms? They had made sweet tender love the last time they were together. Their bodies had melded as if they were one soul. He owned her supple flesh, her spirit, her very breath—and she his. Newland drew in a long breath; how could she not race into his arms? How could she possibly forget their gentlest, most loving, kisses and caresses?

Making love to his Ellen could not be some contrivance of the gods, meant only as a device of punishment. It was quite the opposite. What they had shared was pure, the very definition of love, where the spiritual transcends the flesh. Yes, they had made love until their physical bodies climaxed as one, springing from the highest cliff into utter rapture. With other women—even May—only the comforts of the flesh were satisfied, but with Ellen, the spirit was set free.

Newland dreamed of that first moment when their lips met in that parlor of the little house she stayed in when she had lived in the city. The kiss was soft, enchanting, dream-like. The moment their lips touched, their souls became one eternally. And while they had been forced to live apart, they had never been separated for a moment.