"
Maggie drank it down, Martha watching her. Then she went upstairs
softly, as though her joy might awaken the whole house. She lay
wide-eyed on her bed for hours, then fell into a heavy sleep, deep,
without dreams.
When, in the quieter light of the morning, she considered the event,
she had no doubts nor hesitations. She loved Martin and Martin loved
her. Soon Martin would marry her and they would go away. Her aunt
would be sorry of course, and his father, perhaps, would be angry,
but the sorrow and anger would be only for a little while. Then
Martin and she would live happily together always--happily because
they were both sensible people, and her own standard of fidelity and
trust was, she supposed, also his. She did not think very deeply
about what he had said to her; it only meant that he wanted to
escape from his family, a desire in which she could completely
sympathise. She had loved him, as she now saw, from the first moment
of meeting, and she would love him always. She would never be alone
again, and although Martin had told her that he was weak, and she
knew something about men, she was aware that their love for one
another would be a thing apart, constant, unfaltering, eternal.
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