She blushed furiously and angrily.

Her and Arthur's love was to her most sacred, absolutely between themselves.

When any outsider could observe them, even her sister Walpurga, she seemed so much the comrade and fellow-worker in her attitude toward him that people thought and spoke of their married life as "charming, but cold." Alone with him, she showed that which was for him alone--a passion whose strength had made him strong, as the great waves give their might to the swimmer who does not shrink from adventuring them.

Adelaide's impulsive remark, had violated her profoundest modesty; and in the shock she showed it.
"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Adelaide, though she did not realize wherein she had offended.

Love was an unexplored, an unsuspected mystery to her then--the more a mystery because she thought she knew from having read about it and discussed it and reasoned about it.
"Oh, I understand," said Madelene, contrite for her betraying expression.
"Only--some day--when you really fall in love--you'll know why I was startled." Adelaide shrank within herself.