She had seen the man in whom her happiness was to be, the time was short, the danger great if she should not grasp what her destiny would offer her but once.

Had the Wanderer been by her side, she would have needed to ask no question, she would have known and been satisfied.

But hours must pass before she could see him again, and every minute spent without him grew more full of anxiety and disturbing passion than the last.

The wild love-blossom that springs into existence in a single moment has elements which do not enter into the gentler being of that other love which is sown in indifference, and which grows up in slowly increasing interest, tended and refreshed in the pleasant intercourse of close acquaintance, to bud and bloom at last as a mild-scented garden flower.

Love at first sight is impatient, passionate, ruthless, cruel, as the year would be, if from the calendar of the season the months of slow transition were struck out; if the raging heat of August followed in one day upon the wild tempests of the winter; if the fruit of the vine but yesterday in leaf grew rich and black to-day, to be churned to foam to-morrow under the feet of the laughing wine treaders.
Unorna felt that the day would be intolerable if she could not hear from other lips the promise of a predestined happiness.