"To go beside thee henceforth, John, my hand in thine, learning each day to love thee a little more, to cherish and care for thee, men are such children and thou in some things a very babe. And belike to quarrel with thee, John—a little——" At this he laughed happily and they were silent awhile.
"See John, the moon is gone at last! How dark it grows, 'tis the dawn hour methinks and some do call it the death hour. But with these dear arms about me I—shouldn't fear so—very much."
Slowly, slowly upon the dark was a gleam that grew and grew, an ever waxing brightness filling the world about them.
"Look!" she whispered, "look! O John, 'tis the dawn at last, 'tis the dayspring and hath found me here upon thy breast!"
Thus, standing by that weatherbeaten stile that had known so many lovers before them, they watched day's majestic advent; a flush that deepened to rose, to scarlet, amber and flaming gold. And presently upon the brooding stillness was the drowsy call of a blackbird uncertain as yet and hoarse with sleep, a note that died away only to come again, sweeter, louder, until the feathered tribe, aroused by this early herald, awoke in turn and filled the golden dawn with an ecstasy of rejoicing.
Then my lady sighed and stirred:
"O John," said she, "'tis a good, sweet world! And this hath been a night shall be for us a fragrant memory, methinks. But now must I leave thee—take me home, my John."
So he brought her to the rustic gate that opened upon the lane and setting it wide, stooped to kiss her lips, her eyes, her fragrant hair and watched her flit away among the sleeping roses.
When she had gone he closed the door and trod a path gay with dewy gems; and hearkening to the joyous carolling of the birds it seemed their glad singing was echoed in his heart.