“Because I was afraid she would think she ought to make it known who she was, to clear me. She would have done that, because once I was able to do a little thing for her——”
“A little thing?” said Ess, and thought of the Staked Crossing and the naked child in its bath. “Mrs. Dan doesn’t call it a little thing.”
“Mrs. Dan ...” he said, and drew a deep breath. “Did you know? Did she tell you?”
“She told me nothing,” and Ess opened her eyes full and looked up at him. “And now I know why, Steve, and I’m glad, dear. It was because she knew I ought to trust you without knowing, as I came to do. And because she knew the knowledge would be dearer to me after—this....”
And thereafter the river had its song to itself, long and unheeded, till presently she spoke again.
“Have you quite finished, Stevie dear? Because I’m waiting to hear the other—and sweeter—things you have to say. There’s nothing else matters now.” She nestled her head back on his shoulder and went on dreamily, “And once—oh, ever so long ago, in another world it must have been, where men toil and fight and the country is a field of battle—someone told me that a blow was never struck that could not be wiped out by a kiss, given and taken. It was a wise and gentle old man who told me, dear, and—was he right?”
“He was right, dear heart; he was right,” said Steve.
And “He was right, he was right,” gurgled and chuckled the river, running swift through the piles and swinging ashore, to press caresses and kisses on the land it had but lately smitten, even as another and warmer kiss was being given and taken.
CHATHAM:
W. & J. Mackay & Co., Ltd.