“Hush, Molly!”
“But Betty came—and the sunlight with her—and sweetness and delight. And this other wounded woman brought me the light—brought her to me—led me into pleasant ways again.... And thou, dear heart, at the end of the journeying—that I might know love before I died.”
She sat up suddenly:
“But I am wasted, shrivelled, withered like the old,” she said—“look at me and see it.”
She watched him hungrily, with anxious eyes.
He put his arms about her and held her to him.
She flung her arms about his great head, and held his face close to her:
“It is worth dying—to have loved a man,” she said.
She lay back quietly for a long while, gazing at the big fellow, who put her back so gently amongst the propping pillows, where he sat beside her. Her eyes were rid of frown and fret, suspicion and distrust gone wholly from her. She held his hand in pathetic transparent fingers; and a smile played about the corners of her mouth:
“Thou art wholly mine,” she said. “They will none know thee as I know thee, my beloved—the hearing of none will hang expectant on thy footfall as my hearing has served thee—none will wait upon thy dear whims as my whims have waited—the notes and shades of thy dear voice shall arouse in none other the sweet reverberations that have echoed in the hollows of my quick ears.... Thou wilt bury with me thy largest self.... I die wholly rich.... The rest may have the unessential husk of thee.... Thou hast given me the Realities.... Thou hast brought me into Paradise....”