Thus shut out from him again, she sat looking out into the night.
But in a woman's complete love of a man there is something deeper
than girlhood or womanhood or wifehood: it is the maternal--that
dependence on his strength when he is well and strong, that passion
of protection and defence when he is frail or stricken. Into her
mood and feeling toward him even the maternal had forced its way.
She would have found some expression for it but he anticipated her.
"I am thinking of you, of my duty to you, of your happiness."
She realized at last some terrible hidden import in all that he had
been trying to confess. A shrouded mysterious Shape of Evil was
suddenly disclosed as already standing on the threshold of the
House of Life which they were about to enter together. The night
being warm, she had not used her shawl. Now she threw it over her
head and gathered the weblike folds tightly under her throat as
though she were growing cold. The next instant, with a swift
movement, she tore it from her head and pushed herself as far as
possible away from him out into the moonlight; and she sat there
looking at him, wild with distrust and fear.
He caught sight of her face.
"Oh, I am doing wrong," he cried miserably. "I must not tell you
this!"
He sprang up and hurried over to the pavement and began to walk to
and fro. He walked to and fro a long time; and after waiting for
him to return, she came quickly and stood in his path.
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