“I don’t think so,” said King miserably, in over his head, “but there are only two things could keep you from me—death and marriage. And believe me, Billee, you are far from dead.” Then suddenly the little hand was slipped in his and he saw his own image in the gentian eyes.
“King—you will let me call you that, won’t you?—my King! Oh, don’t you understand? There must be a mystery between us; how long, the good God only knows—but it may not keep us from each other all the time. Can’t we be just sweethearts till then? Don’t you know I love to be with you—and—and would love you—if I might? Don’t you know? Don’t you know, King?” The inevitable happened. She was swept up in the arms of the young man and his lips were pressed to hers. For one long moment, while the world swam about her and her heart stood still, she lay unresisting, helpless. Then he released her and leaped to his feet.
“My God!” he cried in a whisper, staring at her, incredulous. “Can you ever forgive me? I was crazy, mad—I did not know what I was doing! Billee, go! Leave me and never come back! I deserve it!” He was trembling from head to foot. She arose with slow dignity, her face very pale, and tidied her slightly disarranged dress, her eyes timidly searching the perspective ahead, and lips quivering. There was but one couple in view and their backs were turned.
“King,” she said, “you must promise me you’ll never do that again; you must, King, or I shall have to leave you and not return.”
“I swear it! Never until you lay your head on my breast, of your own free will!” But presently she turned and faced him bravely, her eyes again on his. A new note was in her voice. She seemed older.
“King, I can’t bear to see you look unhappy; and I am not a hypocrite. I forgive you, because—I am glad you kissed me, just once—and in that way. Now, I do not doubt—”
“You cannot doubt—”
“I do not doubt myself! King, my splendid boy—oh, this is shameful!” She choked, covered her eyes with one hand, stretched the other blindly toward him, but before he could take it, was gone. He stood as she left him, looking down the vista through which she fled, but seeing nothing. Presently he pressed the back of one hand to his eyes and then examined it in wonder.
“Oh Terence! Terence! what would you give to see that! You’d blackmail me fifty years.”