“I do not think that this is so!  I do not believe that any one can be placed against his will in a situation that is opposed to his conscience!  There must be some other way to do.  A door will open.  Let us wait and hope a little longer.  Let us have another happy day at least,” Pepeeta said.

Heaving a sigh and shrugging his shoulders as if to throw off a burden, David answered, “Well, let it be as you wish.  I have had to suffer so much that perhaps I can endure it a little longer.  I do not want to make you unhappy.  I will try.”

“Oh! thank you, thank you a thousand times; that is like yourself!” Pepeeta said, her face aglow with gratitude.

It was a light from the soul itself that shone through the thin transparency of that face, pale with thought and suffering, and gave it its new radiance.

The world around them was steeped in autumn beauty.  A gigantic smile was on the face of Nature.  Fleecy, fleeting clouds were chasing each other across the blue dome of the heavens.  The hazy atmosphere of the Indian summer softened the landscape and lent it a mystical and unearthly charm.  The forests were resplendent with those brilliant colors which appear like a last flush of life upon the dying face of summer, as she sinks into her wintry grave.  The autumn birds were singing; the autumn flowers were blooming; yellow golden rod and scarlet sumach glowed in the corners of the fences; locusts chirped in treetops; grasshoppers stridulated in the meadows, one or two of them making more noise than a whole drove of cattle lying peacefully chewing their cud beneath an umbrageous elm and lifting up their great, tranquil, blinking eyes to the morning sun.  Here and there boys and girls could be seen in the vineyards and orchards gathering grapes and apples.  Farmers were cutting their grain and stacking it in great brown shocks, digging potatoes, or plowing the fertile soil.  Now and then a traveler met or passed them, clucking to his horses and hurrying to the city with his produce.  Amid these gracious influences, life gradually lost its stern reality and took on the characteristics of a pleasant dream.  The fever and unrest abated, burdens weighed less heavily, sorrow became less poignant; the finer joys of both the waking and sleeping hours of existence were mysteriously blended.

Sharp and irritating as the encounter had been between the two lovers, the momentary antipathy passed away as they moved along.  They drew nearer together; they lifted their eyes furtively; their glances met; they smiled; they spoke; their sympathies flowed back into the old channel; their hopes and affections mingled.  They gave themselves up to joy with the abandon of youth, falling into that mood in which everything pleases and delights.  Nature did not need to tell them her secrets aloud, for they comprehended her whispers and grasped her meaning from sly hints.  They melted into her moods.

What joys were theirs!  To be young; to be drawn together by an affinity which produced a mysterious and ineffable happiness; to wander aimlessly over the earth; to yield to every passing fancy; to dream; to hope; to love.  It was the culminating hour of their lives.