"Is it love?" he said, in a smothered tone that was scarcely more than a
whisper. He was beaten down and overawed by the might and grandeur of
the passion which, growing in his own breast, had become a giant that
swayed and swept all things before it.
"Yes--love!" said Sophie, in a voice like the soft ring of a silver
trumpet. Her heart was steadied and strengthened by what mastered him.
"Love--it is above every thing else. It has brought me down so
low--perhaps, through God's mercy, it is the path by which I may rise
again. You will guide me, dear?"
And, with a gesture of divine humility, she put her hand in his, and
looked down, with the smile brightening mistily in her eyes.
At that moment--recalled, perhaps, by a chance similarity in position,
gesture, or expression--came over him, like a sudden chill and darkness,
the memory of his last interview with Cornelia.