Her "yes" was but the lightest whisper, but I heard it and went on. "That is all, save this; the Indian bearer of your letter blundered and gave it me instead of Dick."
She looked me full in the eyes and my soul went all afire. Then she laid her cheek against my knee and I heard her dear voice as it had been a chime of sweet-toned joy-bells:
"Ah, Monsieur John; how blind this thing called love can make us all. Suppose—suppose the Indian did not blunder, dear lord and master of me?"