The Vehement Flame. Margaret Wade Campbell Deland

The Vehement Flame - Margaret Wade Campbell Deland


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       Margaret Wade Campbell Deland

      The Vehement Flame

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066179786

       CHAPTER I

       Love is as strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.

       THE SONG OF SOLOMON, VIII, 6.

       CHAPTER II

       CHAPTER III

       CHAPTER IV

       CHAPTER V

       CHAPTER VI

       CHAPTER VII

       CHAPTER VIII

       CHAPTER IX

       CHAPTER X

       CHAPTER XI

       CHAPTER XII

       CHAPTER XIII

       CHAPTER XIV

       CHAPTER XV

       CHAPTER XVI

       CHAPTER XVII

       CHAPTER XVIII

       CHAPTER XIX

       CHAPTER XX

       CHAPTER XXI

       CHAPTER XXII

       CHAPTER XXIII

       CHAPTER XXIV

       CHAPTER XXV

       CHAPTER XXVI

       CHAPTER XXVII

       CHAPTER XXVIII

       CHAPTER XXIX

       CHAPTER XXX

       CHAPTER XXXI

       CHAPTER XXXII

       CHAPTER XXXIII

       CHAPTER XXXIV

       CHAPTER XXXV

       CHAPTER XXXVI

       CHAPTER XXXVII

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      There is nothing in the world nobler, and lovelier, and more absurd, than a boy's lovemaking. And the joyousness of it! …

      The boy of nineteen, Maurice Curtis, who on a certain June day lay in the blossoming grass at his wife's feet and looked up into her dark eyes, was embodied Joy! The joy of the warm earth, of the sunshine glinting on the slipping ripples of the river and sifting through the cream-white blossoms of the locust which reared its sheltering branches over their heads; the joy of mating insects and birds, of the whole exulting, creating universe!—the unselfconscious, irresponsible, wholly beautiful Joy of passion which is without apprehension or humor. The eyes of the woman who sat in the grass beside this very young man, answered his eyes with Love. But it was a more human love than his, because there was doubt in its exultation. …

      The boy took out his watch and looked at it.

      "We have been married," he said, "exactly fifty-four minutes."

      "I can't believe it!" she said.

      "If I love you like this after fifty-four minutes of married life, how do you suppose I shall feel after fifty-four years of it?" He flung an arm about her waist, and hid his face against her knee. "We are married," he said, in a smothered voice.

      She bent over and kissed his thick hair, silently. At which he sat up and looked at her with blue, eager eyes.

      "It


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