"I will see her to-night, if you like."
"Not for the world!"
Into Laline's face a troubled look crept. There was still so much to be told. Mrs. Vandeleur had yet to learn that Wallace was her husband; and Wallace had yet to be told that he was at length in love with his own wife. She was so happy at this moment that instinct warned her against the risk of explanations. Wallace saw the cloud on her face, and was by her side in a moment.
"What is the matter, my darling?"
"Nothing," she said, turning to him suddenly with tears glistening in her eyes—"except the fear that some day you may learn things, hear things, which will make you love me less."
"There is no possibility with me of loving you less, dear," he said, "for I love you absolutely. Until I met you I merely drifted through life; art, business, society, athletics, each took a certain portion of my time, but I wanted an anchorage. I was frittering my time away waiting for you. Do you know what that wonderful little old lady of yours told me when she first saw me? She said—I remember her actual words—'You are capable of going to the greatest lengths of what people would call folly for the sake of one you love. You like many people, you love very few. But where you love it is a passion, a religion!'"
"Did she tell you anything else?" asked Laline, deeply interested.
"Yes. She predicted that I was on the eve of a new experience which would alter the whole course of my life. Why, Lina, that was loving you!"
"Yes; but did she make no prediction? I know one ought not to be so superstitious as to believe those things, but she makes such strangely true guesses sometimes. Did she say your love would make you happy?"