“I came back to see her—I find that I cannot live without seeing her.”
“You have only found that out since you left here yesterday morning?”
“Only since I left here. I told you that I was not sure of myself. That is why I went away.”
“You went away to make sure of yourself, and now you return to make sure of her?”
“Ah, if I could but think that! If I could only be as sure of her as I am of myself. But what am I that I should dare to hope? Oh, she is above all womankind—a crown of girlhood! What am I that I should ask to wear this crown of girlhood?”
“You are a king of men, Bertie. Only for the king of men is such a crown.”
She laughed as she stood looking at him as she leaned against the half open door of the window, one hand being on the framework above her head.
“Ella, you know her!” he cried, facing her. She began to swing gently to the extent of an inch or two, still leaning on the edge of the hinged window. She was looking at him through half-closed, curious eyes. “Ella, you know her—she has always been your friend; tell me if I should speak to her or if I should go back to the work that I have begun in New Guinea.”
“Would you be guided by me, Bertie?” she asked, suddenly ceasing her movement with the window and going very close to him indeed—so close that he could feel the gracious warmth of her face and bare neck and shoulders. “Would you be guided by me, I wonder?”
“Have I not been guided by you up to the present, Ella?” said he. “Should I be here to-night if it were not for your goodness? I laughed some time ago—how long ago it seems!—when you told me—you said it was your dearest wish—I did not then believe it possible——”