A new spirit, or a liberation of her own, had fired Columbine, and was now burning within her, unquenchable and unutterable.

Some divine spark had penetrated into that mysterious depth of her, to inflame and to illumine, so that when she arose from this hour of calamity she felt that to the tenderness and sorrow and fidelity in her soul had been added the lightning flash of passion.
"Oh, Ben--shall I be able to hold onto this ?" she cried, flinging wide her arms, as if to embrace the winds of heaven.
"This what, lass ?" he asked.
"This--this _woman!_" she answered, passionately, with her hands sweeping back to press her breast.
"No woman who wakes ever goes back to a girl again," he said, sadly.
"I wanted to die--and now I want to live--to fight....

Ben, you've uplifted me.

I was little, weak, miserable....

But in my dreams, or in some state I can't remember or understand, I've waited for your very words.