They were locked limb to limb: he kissed the smooth sheen of her arms and shoulders—the passion that numbed his limbs was governed by a religious ecstasy. He wanted to hold her, and go away by himself to think about her.
He stooped, thrusting his arm under her knees, and lifted her up exultantly. She looked at him frightened, holding him more tightly.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. “Don’t hurt me.”
“I won’t hurt you, my dear,” he said. “I’m going to put you to bed. Yes. I’m going to put you to bed. Do you hear?” He felt he must cry out in his throat for joy.
He carried her over and laid her on the bed. Then he knelt beside her, putting his arm beneath her and gathering her to him.
“Good-night, my dear. Kiss me good-night. Do you love me?”
“Yes.” She kissed him. “Good-night, my darling. Don’t go back by the window. You may fall.”
But he went, as he came, reaching through the moonlight exultantly like a cat. For a long time he lay awake, in a quiet delirium, his heart thudding fiercely against his ribs. Sleep crept across his senses with goose-soft warmth: the young leaves of the maples rustled, a cock sounded his distant elfin minstrelsy, the ghost of a dog howled. He slept.
He awoke with a high hot sun beating in on his face through the porch awnings. He hated to awake in sunlight. Some day he would sleep in a great room that was always cool and dark. There would be trees and vines at his windows, or the scooped-out lift of the hill. His clothing was wet with night-damp as he dressed. When he went downstairs he found Gant rocking miserably upon the porch, his hand gripped over a walkingstick.
“Good-morning,” he said, “how do you feel?”
His father cast his uneasy flickering eyes on him, and groaned.
“Merciful God! I’m being punished for my sins.”
“You’ll feel better in a little,” said Eugene. “Did you eat anything?”
“It stuck in my throat,” said Gant, who had eaten heartily. “I
