"
"Oh, Mr. Winthrop, you must not go to the other extreme or I shall soon
disappoint you."
"You are all I could wish, Medoline. If it were possible I would not ask
any change in mind or body, my Eve--fresh from the hand of God."
His words frightened me; for how could I ever fulfill his expectations?
He read my face.
"Are you sure, Medoline, you love me as I want to be loved by my wife?
Have you gained your woman's heart with its full capacity for love or
suffering, or are you still only a child?"
"I could die for you, Mr. Winthrop, if it were for your good; I do not
ask for anything better than to be near you always in time and eternity."
"Since how long have you regarded me in this way, Medoline?"
"You remember that long night holding my hand, when I was at the worst of
the fever? I saw everything clearly then. My spirit seemed to get away
from the body, or very nearly so, and looked on things as it had never
done before."
"Did you wonder after that why I left you so abruptly?"
"For a long time I thought you were still at Oaklands. Every day I used
to hope you might come, or send me a message."
"You shall never be so left again till death separates us."
"If you cared for me then, why did you leave me?" I asked timidly.
"If I cared for you then, Medoline! Why don't you ask me when first I
began to love you?"
"I did not think to ask."
"Do you remember that day in the autumn when you had the Mill Road people
here?"
"Yes."
"You came to me, if you remember, with the widow Larkum's baby in your
arms, a very timid, and beseeching look on your face at the same time.
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