"And we've lost seven years, dearest," he said, with a catch in his voice. "We've lost seven years just because I happened to be born a fool."
"But we've got fifty ahead of us," she replied with a joyous laugh.
As she spoke, her heart cried out, "Fifty years of the thing I want!" and she looked up into the kind, serious face of John Henry as if it were the face of incarnate happiness. A tremendous belief in life surged from her brain through her body, which felt incredibly warm and young. She thought exultantly of herself as of one who did not accept destiny, but commanded it.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, but he held her hand pressed closely against his heart, and once or twice he turned in the deserted street and looked into her eyes as if he found there all the words that he needed.
"We won't waste any more time, will we, Susan?" he asked when they reached the house. "Let's be married in December."
"If mother is better by then. She hasn't been well, and I am anxious about her."
"We'll go to housekeeping at once. I'll begin looking about to-morrow. God bless you, darling, for what you are giving me."
She caressed his hand gently with her fingers, and he was about to speak again, when the door behind them opened and the head of Cyrus appeared like that of a desolate bird of prey.
"Is that you, Susan?" he inquired. "Where have you been all this time? Your mother was taken ill more than an hour ago, and the doctor says that she has been paralyzed."
Breaking away from John Henry, Susan ran up the steps and past her father into the hall, where Miss Willy stood weeping.