This is not our Heaven, but I know a villa by
the sea. There are hills and woods about it; flowers, fruits, and in
the day, sunshine, at night, moonlight and music; drives, and walks, and
vines, and arbors. Could you find there your Heaven--with me? May I take
you to my villa?"
When he ceased, his words dropped slowly into silence, and Mae still
gazed at him. She saw him come nearer to her, with his eyes fixed on
hers; she saw his hand leave the oar and move slowly toward hers,
but she was motionless, looking at the picture he had painted her of
life--the cloudless days, moonlit nights--the villa by the sea--the
glowing Piedmontese. Her eyelids trembled, her pulse beat.
Could she take that villa for her home? That man for her husband? She
had half thought till now in soft luxurious Italian, but 'my home' and
'my husband' said themselves to her in her own mother tongue. She gave
a long shiver, and pulled her eyes from his. It was like waking from
a dream. "No--oh, no; take me home," she gasped, and turned toward the
shore, where, erect, with folded arms and head bared, stood Norman Mann.
Pages:
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185