Rose came out, and he put his arm about her.
"Hark!" he commanded. "Do you hear the wind in the tree-tops? It brings me the roar of the city this morning. I hear the grind of cars, the roar of mills, the throb of presses; the city calls me and I must go. My vacation is over. I must say good-by tonight."
"It"s very beautiful up here now," she said a little wistfully. "The sumac is beginning to turn and the hills are like jewels."
"Oh yes, it is beautiful," he said smiling a little. "But down there life is. Infinite novelty, ceaseless change. As you love the country, so I love the city. It is a greater pleasure to me to meet men than trees, and concerts are more than winds in the pines. Artist souls, poets, people who do and think, are there, and so I must go."
"When shall I go?" she asked.
"When you please," he said. "I have no commands. You are perfectly free to do as you like. I need you always now."
"Then I will go tonight," she said firmly.
He turned his eyes upon her in a look she never forgot.
"My dearest girl, do you realize what you are doing? Do you realize that you are entering upon a problematical line of action--that you are inviting pain and sorrow and care, that you are leaving girlhood and leisure behind--that you are entering gates that never swing outward. Do you know this--once more and finally, do you realize all this?"
She stood before him stronger than he; he felt it. She knew him at last since that touch of his lips to her arm, since that look in his eyes--and she said: "I realize it all, and I choose it."