She hid her face against him, and he felt a violent tremor go through her. He put his arm about her and held her close.
"My darling, what makes you so superstitious?"
"I'm not," she murmured shakily. "It isn't superstitious to believe in death, is it? It's a fact one can't get away from. And it frightens me—it frightens me! Think of it, Trevor! We only belong to each other till death us do part. Afterwards—who knows?—we may be in different worlds."
He pressed her closer, feeling her cling to him. "There is a greater thing than death, Chris," he said.
"I know! I know!" she whispered back. "But—I sometimes think—I'm not big enough for it. I sometimes wonder—if God gave me a heart at all."
"My little Chris!" he said. "My darling!"
She lifted a troubled face. The tears were in her eyes. "Don't you often think me silly and fickle?" she said. "And you'll find it more and more the more you see of me. You'll be disappointed in me—you'll be horribly disappointed—some day."
He looked down at her with great tenderness. "That day will never come, dear," he said. "If it did, I should blame myself much more than I blamed you. Come! You mustn't cry on our wedding-day. You're not really unhappy?"
"But I'm afraid," she said.
He dried her eyes and kissed her. "There is nothing to make you afraid," he said. "Haven't I sworn to love and cherish you?"