As for the girl herself, he had loved her so long that it seemed strange to him that he had never known until now how much he loved her.

Her face had been his one thought, his one standard of womanly beauty, for so many years that he was amazed to find that he had never known before how beautiful she was.

A moment since and he had seen the March sunshine upon all the light, soft rings of curling hair that covered her head, and he had seen her laughter, and the oval turn of the dimpled chin, and within the face he had seen what he knew now he had always seen, but never before so clearly--the soul that was strong to suffer as well as strong to enjoy.
By the narrow farm-path which his horse was treading Caius came to the road he had left, and, turning homeward, could not help coming in front of the little cottage whose back wall he had so lately visited.

He had no thought but of passing as quickly as might be, but he saw O'Shea's wife standing before the door, looking for him with her quiet, eager eyes.

She came out a few steps, and Caius, hardly stopping, stooped his head to hear what she had to say.
"I won't tell her," said the woman; then she pleaded: "Let her be, poor thing! Let her be happy while she can." She had slipped back into the house; Caius had gone on; and then he knew that he had this new word to puzzle over.