But a sudden misgiving seemed to seize her at his silence, and she cried defiantly: “’Cos I ain’t niver goin’ away no more, Daddie. Niver no more!”
Then the torrent of his joy was loosed. He pressed her convulsively to his heart and kissed her ... kissed her for all the weary days that were past ... for all the many hours of longing emptiness, when he might have had her to kiss and had not chosen to do so! Kissed her for all the kisses that he had cheated her of.
“No, never no more!” echoed he fervently. “Daisy sha’n’t go away from ’er old Daddie never no more!”
The moon was high up in the sky; the red had waned in her but the gold glowed, for she was the harvest moon. Over the dim marsh-land faint mists were beginning to rise, like tender ghosts of the day that was gone,—and the mystery of dusk hovered abroad.
Tom Wycombe sat as he had sat three months ago, when he had given thanks to his God for restoring his child to him from the grave.
And now he understood what was the meaning of the peace which passeth all understanding.
A FARM TRAGEDY
A FARM TRAGEDY
The moon shone fitfully into the wood; shone fitfully because wild clouds were hurrying across the sky at intervals, so that the feeble radiance could not even pierce, as it might have done, the tender shadows of the forest that autumn gales had not yet stripped of its golden glory.
At the foot of the dell two figures stood leaning against the gate that led from the wood on to the undulating ground beyond.