Between Snow and Fire — page 100: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘TWEEN ie hh UND Fk. new dawn which had swept in upon her life had spread over it an enchanted glamour that was all-powerful in its sur- passing sweetness. ‘That first kiss—alone in the darkness of that peril-haunted midnight—had kindled the Fire of the Live Coal; that one long, golden day, they two alone together, had riveted the burning link, There was no room for regret. Yet there were timés when she was a prey to the most poignant anguish—a woman of Eanswyth’s natural and moral fibre could never escape that—could never throw. herself callously, unthinkingly, into the perilous gulf. A mixture of sensuousness and spirituality, the spirit would ever be warring against the mind—which two are uof con- vertible terms by any means—and often in the dark, silent hours of night a sense of the black horror of her position would come upon her in full force. “ Heaven help me!”’ she would cry half aloud in the fervour of her agony. “Heaven help me!” And then would be added the mental reservation, “ But zo/ through the means of loss— not through the loss of this new and enthralling influence which renders the keenest of mental anguish, engrossingly, indescribably sweet !”’ “Save me from the effect, but, oh, remove not the cause!” A strange, a paradoxical prayer, but a genuine one; aterribly natural one. Thus poor humanity, from— and before—the days of Augustine of Hippo until now— until the consummation of the world. As the days grew into weeks, the strain upon such a nature as Eanswyth’s began to tell—as it was bound to do. She began to look pale and worn, and in such close com- panionship the change could not escape the eyes of her friends. * Don’t you let yourself be anxious, my dear,” saida motherly settler’s wife one day, bursting with a desire to administer comfort. ‘“ The Rangers willsoon be back now. And they’re all right so far—have had some rough work and haven't lost a man. Your husband knows how to take care of himself ; never fear. Yes, they'll soon be back now.’ This was the sort of consolation she had to acquiesce in —to receive with a glad smile at the time, and for hours after to torture herself with the miserable guilty conscious- ness that the fate of the Kaffrarian Rangers was to her a Gomilchboo