“Isn’t it clear?” he answered. “Do you want to bring up the past?”
“You love me?” she asked. He could hardly hear, her voice trembled so.
He made no answer, but bowed his head.
When she saw, she turned, and, throwing her arms along the piano, hid her face, and in a moment he heard her crying softly.
He paused uncertainly, then he went to her. “Sally,” he said.
She lifted her head. She was crying still, but with a great light of happiness in her face. “There is no Captain Wynford,” she sobbed. “If you had looked in the locket—” A laugh flashed in her eyes.
And then he understood.
They were standing close together in the mullioned window where three hundred years before a man standing on the lawn outside had scrawled with a diamond on one of the little panes:
If woman seen thro’ crystal did appere
One half so loving as her face is fair