I heard his footsteps going down the stone stairway from the balcony; I
heard their soft thud on the grass of the lawn; I heard their sharper
crackle on the gravel of the white path, and then they mingled with the
surge and wash of the flowing tide and died away in the distance.
I rose from the desk, and going over to the balcony door looked out into
the darkness. It was a beautiful, pathetic, heart-breaking night. No
moon, but a perfect canopy of stars in a deep blue sky. The fragrance of
unseen flowers--sweetbriar and rose as well as ripening fruit--came up
from the garden. There was no wind either, not even the rustle of a
leaf, and the last bird of evening was silent. All the great orchestra
of nature was still, save for the light churning of the water running in
the glen and the deep organ song of the everlasting sea.
"What can I do?" I asked myself.
Now that Martin was gone I had begun to understand him. His silence had
betrayed his heart to me even more than his speech could have done.
Towering above him like a frowning mountain was the fact that I was a
married woman and he was trying to stand erect in his honour as a man.
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