There is a long silence. And then there is a little rush towards him, and two arms are flung round his neck.
‘I am thinking,’ cries she softly, clinging to him, ‘that now I can marry you.’
Heavenly moments on this side of the sky are few and far between. It is Ella, so strangely unlike a woman, who breaks into the delicious silence.
‘That night! I wish now——’
‘Wish nothing, so far as that is concerned. That night I saw you first gave you to me.’
‘But——’
‘That sounds like fright,’ interrupts he, laughing. ‘But you are not easily frightened, are you? That night—you see, I insist upon going back to it’—catching her hands and drawing her to him—‘no, you shall not be ashamed of it. That night in which we both met for the first time you were not frightened. You walked towards death without a qualm.’
‘Ah, I was too wretched then to be frightened of anything!’ says she.
She looks at him, a smile parts her lips, and slowly, slowly she leans towards him until her cheek is resting against his.