"Mabel, have you ceased to suffer?" he said.
Her eyes were closed in gentle weariness now, but the smile came fresh upon her features, and she murmured dreamily:
"There is no suffering here—nothing but heaven and our two selves."
Oh, James Harrington, be careful now! You have heard those soft words—you have drank in the glory of that smile. In all your life what temptation has equalled this?
For one delirious moment the strong man gave himself up to the joy of those words: for one moment his hands were uplifted in thanksgiving—then they were clasped and fell heavily to the earth, and a flood of bitter, bitter self-reproach flowed silently from his heart. Mabel moved like a child that had been lulled to rest by the music of a dear voice. She thirsted for the sound again.
"Did not some one call me Mabel?" she asked.
Harrington was firm now, and he answered calmly:
"Yes, Mrs. Harrington, it was I."
"Mrs. Harrington," muttered Mabel in a troubled tone, "how came that name here? It is of earth, earthy."
"We are all of earth," answered James, strong in self command. "You have been ill, Mrs. Harrington, drenched through, and almost drowned—but, thank God, your life is saved."