“You understood? What did you understand?” said Eve, her face deathly white.
“That I loved you,” said Paul, taking her in his arms. “That is enough for me; I hope it is for you.”
“That you love me in spite of—”
“There is no ‘in spite of;’ what you did was noble, was extraordinarily brave. A woman is timid; you are timid, though you may pretend not to be; yet with your own hand—”
Eve remembered how Cicely had struck her hand down. “You will strike it down, too!” she said, incoherently, bursting into tears.
Paul soothed her, not by words, but by his touch. Her whole being responded; she leaned her head against his breast.
“To save Cicely you crushed your own feelings; you did something utterly horrible to you. And you faced all the trouble and grief which would certainly come in consequence of it. Why, Eve, it was the bravest thing I have ever heard of.”
Eve gave a long sigh. “I have been so unhappy—”
“Never again, I hope,” said Paul; “from this moment I take charge of you. We will be married as soon as possible; we will go to Charleston.”
“Don’t let us talk of that. Just love me here;—- now.”