"Then come, come with me," he insisted, "and grant your betrothed the
rights that are his due.

"Nay, not my betrothed--not yet," she besought him, with all the fervor
of her tortured soul. "In my veins too the blood flows warm with
yearning. Gladly would I fly to your arms and lay my head against
yours, but not to-day can I become your betrothed, not yet; I cannot,
I dare not!"

"And why not? Tell me, at any rate, why not," he cried indignantly,
clenching his fist to his breast. "Why will you not be my bride, if
indeed it is true that you love me? Why have you invented this new and
intolerable torment?"

"Because prudence tells me," she replied in a low, hurried voice, while
her bosom heaved painfully, as though she were afraid to hear her own
words; "because I see that the time is not yet come. Ah, Orion! you
have not yet learnt to bridle the desires and cravings that burn within
you; you have forgotten all too quickly what is past--what a mountain we
had to cross before we succeeded in finding each other, before I--for I
must say it, my dear one--before I could look you in the face without
anger and aversion. A strange and mysterious ordering has brought it
about; and you, too, have honestly done your best that everything should
be changed, that what was white should now be black, that the chill north
wind should turn to a hot southerly one. Thus poison turns to healing,
and a curse to a blessing. In this foolish heart of mine passionate
hatred has given way to no less fervent love. Still, I cannot yet be
your bride, your wife. Call it cowardice, call it selfish caution, what
you will. I call it prudence, and applaud it; though it cost my poor