LAST TALK ON THE HILLS Beatrice's prayer had been answered.

Antony had come back to her.

She was necessary to him once more.

The old look was in his eyes, the old sound in his voice.

One day as they were out together she was so conscious of this happiness returned that she could not forbear speaking of it--with an inner feeling that it was better to be happy in silence.
What is that instinct in us which tells us that we risk our happiness in speaking of it?
Happiness is such a frightened thing that it flies at the sound of its own name.