“If the burden had been twice as heavy,” he cried, “I would bear it cheerfully now. Forever—”
He stopped short. Some instinct told him that any further words were unnecessary. As she had spoken and looked, so would she remain to him forever. So he called her carriage, and once more her fingers rested in his great work-hardened hand.
“Good-bye,” she said, “and good fortune.”
When he reached the cottage Milly brought tea out to him, waited upon him breathlessly. The terrible gloom which had oppressed her so much had passed away. He was dressed in new and well-fitting clothes. Even to her untrained eye there was a wonderful change in his bearing and demeanor.
“Milly,” he said, “would you like to live in London?”
The thought was like paradise. She strove to contain herself.
“With you, Enoch—anywhere.”
“With me, certainly,” he answered. “We shall go there next week. You will be able to have a decent house and servants. Dobell’s are opening a London branch, and I shall have to manage it. I ought to have told you some of these things before. I had no right to keep them to myself. You will never be poor again, Milly. It seems as though we were going to be very rich.”
“Enoch! Enoch!”
He smiled at the excitement which baffled speech.