"Peter!"
"Yes, dear?"
"Do you remember the night in Anna's room at the Schwartz when
you proposed to me?"
No reply. Peter found another pin.
"And that night in the old lodge when you proposed to me again?"
Peter turned and looked at her, at her slender, swaying young
figure, her luminous eyes, her parted, childish lips.
"Peter, I want you to--to ask me again."
"No!"
"Why?"
"Now, listen to me, Harmony. You're sorry for me, that's all; I
don't want to be pitied. You stay here and work. You'll do big
things. I had a talk with the master while I was searching for
you, and he says you can do anything. But he looked at me--and a
sight I was with worry and fright--and he warned me off, Harmony.
He says you must not marry."
"Old pig!" said Harmony. "I will marry if I please."
Nevertheless Peter's refusal and the master's speech had told
somewhat. She was colder, less vibrant. Peter came to her, stood
close, looking down at her.
"I've said a lot I didn't mean to," he said. "There's only one
thing I haven't said, I oughtn't to say it, dear. I'm not going
to marry you--I won't have such a thing on my conscience. But it
doesn't hurt a woman to know that a man loves her. I love you,
dear. You're my heaven and my earth--even my God, I'm afraid. But
I will not marry you."
"Not even if I ask you to?"
"Not even then, dear. To share my struggle--"
"I see," slowly. "It is to be a struggle?"
"A hard fight, Harmony.
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