"And the 'Biggest of Them All'—you remember him?"
"I—I have forgotten him, Cynthia."
"No—you have not forgotten him, Sandy!"
"He—he does not seem to have any place, lil' Cyn."
"Oh! yes and yes he does! I reckon he is bigger than even you or I—know!"
Did she suspect the terrible weakness of desire that was overpowering him? At this thought Sandy gripped his hands closer; he felt her deep, true eyes upon him and a rush of blood dyed his dark face to crimson. Cynthia saw this and laid her cool hand upon his shoulder while she asked bravely, daringly:
"Do you love me—Sandy?"
What other woman on earth could have put that question at such a time? He and she were alone in the empty woods and the night held them. Sandy turned to her.
"As God hears me—yes, lil' Cyn, with all my heart and soul. I have loved you all my life."
"In this bag," Cynthia touched the bag at her waist, "are the letters I wrote to you, Sandy, while you were away. I hid them in an old tree by Stoneledge. The tree kept them safe for—me. There are a right many—all answers to the one you sent me. Do you want them, Sandy?"