"Why have you come?"
"To tell you I'm going away either tomorrow or the day after. He has written to Uncle Vivian's housekeeper, Mrs. Venn, telling her to expect me back straight away; and he has forbidden me to try to see you before I go; dared me to.... This is our only chance, Mary. I overheard him saying that tomorrow morning very early, before breakfast, he's going to lock you in the attic and keep you locked there till after I'm gone away. Well—I came to tell you that—and—to say good-bye." He paused and took courage. "And to tell you that when I'm a man I've made up my mind to come back and beat him till he bleeds as he has made you bleed."
He stopped and waited. I knew what he was waiting for. I trembled, shook like an aspen leaf; my heart, soul, brain, were all aflood with what he longed for me to say.
"Why don't you come nearer?" huskily. He came a little nearer and waited again, pretending, for all the world like a grown human being, that he did not see the invitation he longed for.
"You are cold," I said (truth ready to my hand for use). "Come and lie under the coverlet." The first word over, it was easier.
"It must be hurting you horribly," he said. He stood by the bedside in a last moment of hesitation.
"Come," I repeated. He climbed on the bed beside me. "Yes, it hurts badly. Robbie, come nearer."
Then he put his arms round me; I was half out of the bedclothes; but we were warm together under the coverlet. His curly head touched mine, his soft boyish cheek gently rubbed against my own. This was what he had come to do. This was what I had waited to know.
Here was love again. It was true. It was sweet beyond belief.
That is many years ago. Since then I have known many glorious things. I say still that this moment, when he placed his boyish arms around me, was the holiest and happiest of my life.