“Rough?” she whispered, slowly. “I wonder if you know what roughness means—I wonder if you could hurt me if you tried!” Then her face contracted suddenly and her hands went out to him in shuddering appeal. “Keep me from remembering!” she cried, wildly, “help me to blot out the past. I can’t tell even you. I want to forget—everything—everything but your love. Oh, my Desert Healer, you heal others, heal me too! Make me strong again—strong and fit to share your life, to be your helper—Don’t let me think! Oh, Gervas, don’t—let—me—think!”
The look he had dreaded to see again was back in her eyes and her whole body was shaking as she clung to him with all her shyness forgotten in the greater mental distress that made her seek his help and consolation. With almost womanly tenderness he soothed her, holding her till the nervous trembling passed and she lay still in his arms.
“It’s over,” he said, at last, “over and done with. It’s a new life we’ve begun together, dearest. A new life that will bring you health and strength and, God helping me, a greater joy than we have ever known. The desert will heal you, Marny, as it healed me years ago. Shut your mind to the past. Think only of the future—and of our happiness.”
A bitter sob escaped her.
“We haven’t any right to be happy,” she moaned. He did not answer but she felt him stiffen suddenly and her eyes leaped to his with a new fear dawning in them.
“Gervas—” she gasped, “what will you do—if he won’t divorce me? Oh, you don’t know him as I do, you don’t know of what he is capable. He would do it just to feel that his power was over me still, just to keep me bound, just to hurt us. Gervas, if I can never be free, if I can never be your wife—what then?”
A shadow passed over his face as he looked down at her.
“Will the price of our happiness be too big for you to pay, Marny—or is it me that you doubt?” he asked, slowly.
“Gervas—” But his kisses stopped her frantic protestations and there was only love and pity in his eyes as he gathered her closer. “You will always be my wife—as you are my wife to me, now. Nothing can ever alter that. Nothing shall ever come between us. God knows how you’ve suffered, and He can judge me for what I have done when the time comes. But while I live you’re mine and no power on earth shall take you from me.” His deep voice was vibrant with passion and for a moment the fierce pressure of his arms was pain. Then as if ashamed of his own display of feeling he put her from him.
“I’m a brute,” he exclaimed, remorsefully. “Come and eat, you pale child. I hadn’t the heart to wake you before, you were sleeping so soundly.”