"My Doris!" he whispered. "What have they done to you?"
She trembled in the close embrace, and clung to him.
"I—I have been afraid," she said simply, "for so many endless days! So many long white nights I I thought at times I should go mad at the horror of it! And when I heard that you were here, near me, in Jerez, I decided to risk all. And so I—I came with Maria, who knows the way," she nodded toward the other figure which had withdrawn into the shadows, "to—to see you."
"To see me?" he repeated in a low voice, as one cons a difficult lesson. "You risked all, to see me?"
She nodded, and raised her eyes to his. "But if you are not glad to see me?" She strove gently to disengage herself.
He held her fast. At the moment, as if the heavens had opened wide, a great light broke in upon him. He stared at the face lying against his shoulder, flushed, eager, incredulous. Her soft eyelids were closed. Love lay upon them like a dream, and upon the faintly smiling lips. Her breath mounted to his nostrils like delicate incense. He bent lower and lower.
"Open your eyes, darling!" he entreated.
She obeyed—their lips met. He kissed her again.
A slight sound came from the shadows.
Doris broke from him, breathless, but unashamed, a new-found joy in her eyes.