She looked at him an instant with startled eyes, as though his had read the secret suspicion of her heart; then with a wild sob, "I do not know, I do not know," she cried piteously. With that she burst into tears. He tried to soothe her. "Leave me—leave me," was all her answer, and in his helplessness he turned to do so—to leave her bowed down and weeping passionately—weeping as he had never seen woman weep before—in the chair from which she had risen to welcome him—with that foolish paper still lying crumpled at her feet.
It was so he saw her when he turned again at the door, for a last look at his friend. The white fog pressed against the panes; a little mist there was in the room, but the fire burnt very brightly, and against the glow were those small ears pink with shame, those strong hands racked with anguish, that fine head bowed low, that lissom figure bent double in the beautiful abandon of a woman's grief. Young blood took fire. He forgot everything but her. He could not and he would not leave her so; in an instant his arms were about her, he was kissing her hair.
"I love you—I love you—I love you!" he whispered. "Let us think of nothing else. If we are never to see each other again, thank God I have told you that!"
She pushed him back in horror.
"But it is dreadful, if it is true," she said; and yet she held her breath until he vowed it was.
"I have loved you for months," he said, "though I didn't know it at first. I never meant to love you. I couldn't help myself—it makes me love you all the more." And his arms were round her once more, in the first earnest passion of his life, in the first sweet flood of that passion.
"If you love me," she whispered, "will you ask no more questions of me—or of anybody? They will not bring your father back. They may only implicate—my ather—just as he is coming through his hard, hard struggles. Can you not leave it in the hands of Providence—for my sake? It is all I ask; and I think—if you do—it may all come right—some day."
"With you?" he cried. "With you and me?"
"Who knows?" she answered. "You may not care for me so long; but when there are no more mysteries—well, yes—perhaps."
"Shall I ever see you meanwhile?"