"Yes, if you positively refuse still to go to the parson."
The expression of her anxious eyes grew inscrutable.
"I want your mother to love me," she said naïvely.
Ben lifted her hands and held them to his lips.
"You haven't promised," she said softly. "I know he suspects you now. I think he is a madman when he is angry."
"Very well, I promise." Ben released her hands and smiled down with adoring eyes. "Now, we will go home," he said.
Again the great bird rose and winged its way between heaven and earth.
Now it was not as before when Geraldine's whole being had seemed absorbed in flight and freedom. The earth was before her and a new life. She had a lover. Wonderful, sweet, incredible fact. A good man, Miss Upton said. Could it be that never again desolation and fear should sicken her heart; that like the princess of the tales her great third day had come and brought her love as well as liberty? Happiness deluged her, flushed her cheeks, and shone in her eyes. She longed and dreaded to alight again upon that earth which had never shown her kindness. Could it be possible that she should reign queen in a good man's heart? For so many years she had been habitually in the background, kept there either by her stepmother's will or her own desire to hide her shabbiness, and when need had at last forced her to initiative, she had received such humiliating stabs from the greed of men—could it be that she was to walk surrounded by protection, and love, and respect?
She closed her eyes. Spring, sunlight, joy coursed through every vein. When at last they began again to dip toward earth, the question surged through her: "Shall I ever be so happy again?"
And now Miss Upton's figure loomed large and gracious in the foreground of her thoughts. She longed for the refuge of her kindly arms until she could gather herself together in the new era of safety and peace.