Will you come with us? Some of us are resolved to go—Secret or not. I am one of those. Will you let me go—alone?"
"Is it impossible," he said, "that you should go without the Secret?"
"Yes," she said; "the people would be afraid. But oh, to think of a new life, where we shall no longer be all the same, but different! Every one shall have his own possessions again—whatever he can win; every one his own profession; the women shall dress as they please; we shall have Art—and Music—and Poetry again. And—oh, Harry!—she leaned her head upon his shoulder—"we shall have Love again. Oh, to think of it! Oh, to think of it! Love once more! And with Love, think of all the other things that will come back. They must come back, Harry—the old Faith which formerly made us happy—" Her voice choked, and she burst into tears.
I crouched behind the statues, listening. What did she cry about? The old Faith? She could have that if she wanted, I suppose, without crying over it. No law whatever against it.
Dr. Linister said nothing, but I saw that he was shaking—actually shaking—and trembling all over. A most remarkable person! Who would have believed that weakness so lamentable could lie behind so much science?
"I yield," he said—"I yield, Mildred. The Present is so horrible that it absolves me even from the most solemn oath. Love has been killed—we will revive it again. All the sweet and precious things that made life happy have been killed; Art and Learning and Music, all have been killed—we will revive them. Yes, I will go with you, my dear; and—since you cannot go without—I will bring the Secret with me."
"Oh, Harry! Harry!" She flung herself into his arms.
