"I know it, a little, but I think it would make everything easier if I could hear it from you--now." He stood up and looked down upon her where she sat, with the light playing in her hair; and then he moved to the window, and back, and she had not changed her position, but was waiting for him to speak.

She raised her eyes, and the question her lips had formed was glowing in them as clearly as if she had voiced it again in words.

A desire rose in him to speak to her as he had never spoken to another human being, and to reveal for her--and for her alone--the thing that had harbored itself in his soul for many years.

Looking up at him, waiting, partial understanding softening her sweet face, a dusky glow in her eyes, she was so beautiful that he cried out softly and then laughed in a strange repressed sort of way as he half held out his arms toward her.
"I think I know how my father must have loved my mother," he said.

"But I can't make you feel it.