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She got up quickly as her stepfather came into the room, and Carter went home, crossing the street with the rather pathetic arrogance of his halting gait, his head held high, tilted a little back, which gave him the expression of looking down on a world of swift striders. He found his mother reading before a low fire. "Well, dearest?" She smiled up at him, yearningly.
I would rather come in contact with the nobler activities the mental and spiritual forces through the minds and works of men. I would find such attrition more helpful than this phase of creation which thou callest 'nature, whose unfolding is more passive, depending on its inherent law." "This also is of God's gift, Paolo mio," Fra Giulio had said yearningly.
At other times he could not help recalling her large, beautiful, love-beaming eyes, her soft, red lips, and yearningly confess that it would have been sweet to hold her in his arms and kiss her, and, since he had forever lost his Ruth, he could find no more faithful, sensible, tender wife than she. But what should he, the student, the wandering disciple of Art, do with a bride, a wife?
Over all these my glance lingered yearningly, for it seemed to me that this look might be my last. And now, as I stooped and gripped my weapon, I remembered how I had, that morning, kissed her fingers, and I was strangely comforted and glad.
These are the days wherein God hath caused the Day-Star of Truth to shine resplendent. What hath then caused you to keep your silence? These are the appointed days which ye have been yearningly awaiting in the past—the days of the advent of divine justice. Render ye thanks unto God, O ye concourse of believers. Let not the deeds of those who reject the Truth shut you out as by a veil.
And so she came to the open space and the almost forgotten shrine where once she had raised her Strange God. She sat down upon a fallen tree and looked over the little, many-islanded bay to the Secret Portage. Through that she seemed to pass yearningly, and her eyes grew large and strained. Then she stretched out her arms, her young, empty arms.
Over the yearningly homesick creature had hung the threat that her father and mother, those she ached and longed for, could be told the story in such a manner as would brand her as a woman with a shameful secret. How could she explain herself? There were the awful, written words. He was her husband. He was remorseless, plausible. She dared not write freely. She had no witnesses to call upon.
There were moments when he felt almost sorry for her; and these, oddly enough, were the moments when his kindness was least demonstrative. He was sure she had been yearningly ambitious and that what she had visibly accomplished was far below her secret measure. She had got herself into perfect training, but had won none of the prizes.
"FIVE THOUSAND YEARS!" he muttered hoarsely, pressing his hands into his aching brows, while his eyes again fixed themselves yearningly on the Cross.. "Five thousand years before. ... before WHAT?"
Now scarce were they gone when I got me to my feet, whereat the landlord, Roger, did the like: "What's to do?" he questioned, glancing yearningly from me to the rusty sword. "Why now," says I, counting out my reckoning, "bide you here for your good wife's sake." "Aye, do now, Roger!" she pleaded. "'Twould be ruination to us!"
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