He took her in his arms and for a moment there was silence while out in the moonlit trees a mocking-bird called to its mate.
“My little girl,” he said at last tremulously, “is it really true?”
“Oh, how could I do it,” she whispered, “how could I!”
“Love me? I am sure I don’t know and I scarcely dare believe it. Look at me, sweetheart and tell me it is true.”
She raised her beautiful honest eyes and let him look into the depths of her pure soul. “It is so natural to love you and so beautiful,” she said simply.
“But I am no longer a young man, dear. What right have I to ask you to give your young life to me?”
“You didn’t ask me,” with a little fluttering laugh, “I asked you. It is very humiliating for you to remind me of it.”
“Julie!” He was holding her fast as if he never meant to let her go.
“You are not old,” she protested. “It is not years but the spirit that counts, and you are young—just as I am old for my years, and there is no one like you but Hester in the world. I have been loving you so long unconsciously, that I don’t know when it began.”
“Neither do I, dear.”