"Oh, Clem!" Poppy said at last, with something like a sob in her voice. "It is all so wonderful—to be out of the 'tangled wild' at last, with the clear, open land before us! Can it be true? I have had so many blows in the face, and I am so undeserving of this great happiness—can it be true?"
"Chance is more just than we are!" Clem softly quoted. "Poppy, before we part I must tell you something ... about my name—Loraine. Bill wants me to tell you ... and he says you will know why. It is my own name, dear—but I have never allowed anyone to call me by it but Bill. When people love each other very much you know—they give each other little secret gifts that no one else must know of—this was one of mine to Bill. All the world can call me Clem—but Loraine was only for him. Others came to know of it by accident, but I never gave anyone the right to call me by that name but Bill——"
Poppy held the little brown, thin hand more tightly.
"I know, I know, darling," she fervently said. She could not at this time tell Clem how much else she knew—all that Carson had told her of the secret love he had borne for Clem for many years; but she had no feeling of bitterness now, or anger concerning that love. Clem went on, a little hurriedly, for time was flying:
"I had another reason too—under my mask I am dreadfully superstitious and primitive. All the Loraines in my ancestral history have lost those whom they loved—in some tragic way. I am afraid of history. Oh, Poppy! when one loves ... when one loves ... one is afraid of everything." She turned white and began to tremble. "How fearful one is! I have been so fearful always for Bill ... that I have never even dared show him how much I care. I always think if I am silent, silent, silent ... never bragging, never telling of my soul's idolatry, God will be merciful to me." She was trembling like a leaf, and stammering with pallid lips—this calm, well-masked, self-possessed woman of the world. Never before had any woman's eyes seen past the barriers into the inmost chapel of Clem Portal's heart. And Poppy, overwhelmed, could only tenderly say:
"Dear Clem ... thank you.... God bless you!" Bramham bustled up.
"We've got to clear out, Mrs. Portal ... they're going to haul up the gangway!" He turned to Poppy. "And the siren is hooting us out of your paradise. Well, Lady Carson! the world will expect wonderful things from your pen up in the silences of Borapota!"
She smiled at him with radiant, misty eyes.
"Let it expect. I shall never be able to write any more, Charlie. I can never do anything again but live. I know how to live."
The others joined them then, and the whole group moved gangwaywards, individual remarks swamped in general farewells, jests, laughter, good wishes. All were ashore at last, leaving Poppy and Carson standing alone, side by side, with the keen winter sunlight bright upon them.