forgive me. You mustn't think that I was angry
with you because perhaps I spoke angrily. Darling, darling Guy, I
adore you so, and nothing else but you matters to my happiness. I
should not have spoken about religion-- I don't know how we came
to argue about it. It was unkind of me to be depressed and sad
when my dearest was sad. Truly, truly I am so anxious about your
poems only because I want you to be happy. Sometimes I must seem
selfish, but you know that before anything it is your work I think
of. I'm not really a bit worried about our being married. I have
these fits of depression which are really very wrong. I'm not
worried about anything really, only I had a dream about you last
month which frightened me. Oh, Guy, come this afternoon and tell
me you're not angry. I promise you that I won't make you miserable
with my stupid depression. Guy, if I could only tell you how I
love you. If you only knew how never, never for an instant do I
care for anything but your happiness. You don't really want me to
give up believing in anything, do you? It doesn't really make you
angry, does it? Come and tell me this afternoon that you've
forgiven

Your
PAULINE.

I love you. I love you.

Gently the daffodils swayed in this light breeze of dying March, and the
grass was already tall enough to sigh forth its transitory Summer tune.
Guy, in a flood of penitence, hastened at once to the Rectory to accuse
himself to Pauline, and when he saw her watching for him at the nursery
window he had no regrets that could stab to wound him as deeply as he
deserved to be wounded. She was very tender and still that afternoon,
and as he held her in his arms there seemed to him nothing more worth
while in life than her cherishing. For them sitting in that nursery the
hours swung lazily to and fro in felicity, and all the time there was
nobody to disturb the reconciliation. They talked only of the future and
allowed recent despairs and foreboding agitations to slink away
disgraced. Janet, coming to take away the tea-things, beamed at their
happiness and through a filigree of bare jasmine twigs the slanting sun
touched with new life the faded wall-paper, opening wider, it seemed,
the daisies' eyes, mellowing the berries, and tinting the birds with
brighter plumes for their immutable and immemorial courtship.

Plunged deep in such a peace, Guy, promp