No word had passed between these two to which the world might not have listened.

Whatever language their hearts and their eyes spoke had not been interpreted by their lips.

He had not yet touched her hand save as it met his, gloved or formal, or as it rested on his arm; and yet, as one walking through the dusk and stillness of a summer night feels a flower or falling leaf brush his check, and starts, shivering as from the touch of a disembodied soul, so this slight outward touch thrilled his inmost being; this hand, meeting his for an instant, shook his soul.
Indefinite and undefined,--there was no thought beyond the moment; no wish to take this young girl into his arms and to call her "wife" had shaped itself in his brain.

It was enough for both that they were in one another's presence, that they breathed the same air, that they could see each other as they raised their eyes, and exchange a word, a look, a smile.

Whatever storm of emotion the future might hold for them was not manifest in this sunny and delightful present.
Upon one subject alone did they disagree with feeling,--in other matters their very dissimilarity proving an added charm.