“I have lost my power,” he said sadly.

“You are out of practice, you must exercise it oftener.  It will all come back,” Pepeeta responded cheerfully.

They walked slowly and silently back to the place where they had been sitting, and David began tossing pebbles into the brook.

“Three times to-day,” he said, pausing and turning toward Pepeeta, “I have opened my hands and my heart, and each time the object whose love I sought has fluttered away from me in terror or repugnance.”

“Oh! no, not in terror and repugnance,” she said eagerly.

“Am I then incapable of exciting love?” he asked.

“You will break my heart if you speak so.  I love you more than I love my own life.”

“I do not believe it.  Can I believe that the squirrel and the redbird love me, when they flee from me?  If they had loved me, they would have come to me and nestled to my heart.  And so would you.  I have come back to the old subject.  I cannot refrain any longer.  Will you go with me, or will you not?”

“Oh!  David,” she cried, wringing her hands, “why, why will you break my heart?  Why can you not permit me to finish this day in peace?  Wait until some other time.  Why can you not enjoy this present moment?  I could wish it to last forever, if you were only kind.  If the flight of time could be stopped, if we could be forever what we are just now, I could not ask for any other thing.  See how beautiful the world is.  See how happy we are.  See how everything hangs just like a balance!  Do not speak, do not move; one unkind word would jar and spoil it all.”

“It is impossible,” he cried roughly, “you must leave your husband and come with me.  You cannot put me off any longer.  I am desperate.”

He was looking at her with eyes no longer full of pleading, but of determination and command.

“What will you do?” he asked.

“Oh!” she answered, trembling, “why will you compel me to act?  Let something happen!  Wait!  It is not necessary always to act!  Sometimes it is better to sit still!  We are in God’s hands.  Let us trust Him.  Has He not awakened this love in our hearts?  He has not made us love and long for each other only to thwart us!”

“Thwart us!  Who coaxes the flowers from the ground, only that the frost may nip them?  Who opens the bud only to permit it to be devoured by the worm?  Who places the babe in its mother’s arms only to let it be snatched away by the hand of death?  You cannot appeal to me in that way,” he retorted, bitterly.

“Do not speak so,” she exclaimed with genuine terror.  “It is wicked to say such things in this quiet and holy place.  Oh! why have you lost that faith you once possessed?  What has blinded your eyes to the light that you taught me to see?  I see it now!  All will be well!  Something says to me in my heart, ‘All will be well,’ if we only follow the light!”

Nothing could have given stronger proof that inspiration and intuition are as natural and legitimate functions of the spiritual nature as sensation and sense perception are of the physical, than her words and looks.  They would have convinced and mastered him, except for the self-denial which they demanded of his love!  But he was now far past all reason.