In that short hour he sometimes, in slight measure found, if not peace,
cessation from struggle. "This is what I would be doing now," he told
himself, and with that, when the day had not drawn too heavily upon him,
he could rest a little, perhaps, in some rare moments, almost forget.
But to-night the spell of the hour was passing him by. Ernestine saw that
in the restless way his hand moved away from hers, the nervous little
cough, the fretted shaking of the head. She understood why it was; the
fall quarter at the university opened that day. It would have marked the
beginning of his new year's work. Very quietly she wiped the tears from
her cheek. She tried never to let Karl know that they were there.
His head had fallen to his hand, and she moved closer to him and laid her
face against the sleeve of his coat. She did not say anything, she did
not touch him, or wind her arm, as she loved to do, about his neck. She
had come to understand so well, and perhaps the greatest triumph of her
love was in knowing when to say nothing at all.
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