Chapter 2

THIS IS THE WAY OF LOVE

Cornelia lingered in the garden, because she had suddenly, and as yet
unconsciously, entered into that tender mystery, so common and so
sovereign, which we call Love. In Hyde's presence she had been suffused
with a bewildering, profound emotion, which had fallen on her as the
gentle showers fall, to make the flowers of spring. A shy happiness, a
trembling delightful feeling never known before, filled her heart. This
handsome youth, whom she had only seen twice, and in the most formal
manner, affected her as no other mortal had ever done. She was a little
afraid; something, she knew not what, of mystery and danger and delight,
was between them; and she did not feel that she could speak of it. It
seemed, indeed, as if she would need a special language to do so.

"I have met him but twice," she thought; "and it is as if I had a new,
strange, exquisite life. Ought I tell my mother? But how can I? I have
no words to explain--I do not understand--I thought it would break my
heart to leave the good Sisters and my studies, and the days so calm and
holy; and now--I do not even wish to go back. Sister Langaard told me it
would be so if I let the world come into my soul--Alas! if I should be
growing wicked!"

The thought made her start; she hastened her steps towards the large
entrance door, and as she approached it a negro in a fine livery of blue
and white threw the door wide open for her. Answering his bow with a
kind word, she turned quickly out of the hall, into a parlour full of
sunshine. A lady sat there hemstitching a damask napkin; a lady of
dainty plainness, with a face full of graven experiences and mellowed
character. Purity was the first, and the last, impression she gave. And
when her eyes were dropped this idea was emphasized by their beautiful
lids; for nowhere is the flesh so divine as in the eyelids. And Ava
Moran's eyelids were full of holy secrets; they gave the impression of a
spiritual background which was not seen, but which could be felt. As
Cornelia entered she looked up with a smile, and said, as she slightly
raised her work, "it is the last of the dozen, Cornelia."

"You make me ashamed of my idleness, mother. Have I been a long time
away?"

"Longer than was unnecessary, I think."

"I went to Embree's for the linen thread, and he had just opened some
English gauzes and lute-strings. Mrs. Willets was choosing a piece for a
new gown, for she is to dine with the President next week, and she was
so polite as to ask my opinion about the goods. Afterwards, I walked to
Wall Street with her; and coming back I met, on Broadway, Lieutenant
Hyde--and he gave me these flowers--they came from Prince's