And here the woman spoke:
"Good or bad—and I think you the finest man I ever knew—worthy of me or not, I'd rather be your wife than anything this world could bring. Oh, ye've been so long away, Danvers," she said, with a sob, "so long away——"
"God!" he cried, the word sounding like a prayer, as he gathered her in his arms, kissing her lips, her eyes, her hair; and, the time being made for them, I went quietly from the room.
An hour passed, two; and when midnight was tolled, I knew that Nancy's health must be thought of, and crossed the hall to pack Danvers off home. I found him, glorified, at one side of the chimney-shelf, and Nancy, like a beautiful crumpled rose, at the other; Nancy, with eyes showing the memory of Danvers's kisses; conscious to the finger-tips, all woman, who had been learning for the past two hours from her lover's passionate caresses the Meaning of Life.
"Be off home with you, Danvers Carmichael," I cried. "Ye'll have this child of mine ill again!"
"I am not going home," he said determinedly. "She is not well, and she needs some one to sit up with her."
I laughed in his face. "With Dickenson in the next room, Joan Landy sleeping at the foot of the bed, and McMurtrie and myself across the hall, she scarce suffers from lack of attention," I answered, and here he took another course.
"Oh," he cried, "think of what I have been through—think of all the bitter days and nights of separation from her! Think how near I came to losing her altogether. Think of the hell of the last two years, and let me stay," he cried, pleadingly; and here the young rascal put his hand on my shoulder.
"Father," he cried.
The word made me wax in his hand, and I compromised. "Ye can have the rooms next to mine and stay with us to-night," I gave in.