"They didn't ask anybody to marry them in church, did they?" asked the
Dean.
"Not that I know of."
The Dean said nothing, but as he lay back in his chair, his hands behind
his head, his expression was rather hostile than acquiescent.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, under the lime walk the golden evening insensibly heightened
the pleasure of Newbury and Marcia in each other's society. For the sunny
fusion of earth and air glorified not only field and wood, but the
human beings walking in them. Nature seemed to be adapting herself to
them--shedding a mystic blessing on their path. Both indeed were conscious
of a secret excitement. They felt the approach of some great moment, as
though a pageant or presence were about to enter. For the first time,
Marcia's will was in abeyance. She was scarcely ecstatically happy; on the
far horizon of life she seemed to be conscious of storm-clouds, of things
threatening and unexplored. And yet she was in love; she was thrilled
both physically and spiritually by the man beside her; with a certain
helplessness, she confessed in him a being stronger and nobler than
herself; the humility, the self-surrender of passion was rising in her,
like the sap in the spring tree, and she trembled under it.
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