"Love you? Why—why do you think I—could be here like this—if I didn't?"
Still she spoke almost as a child might speak. There was no suggestion of coquetry, no trying to appear surprised at his avowal. But there was something more, something in the tone of her voice, in the light of her eyes, in her very presence, that told Dick that deep was calling unto deep, that this maiden, whose heart was the heart of a child, had entered into womanhood, and knew its glory.
"Aren't you glad, too?" she asked.
"Glad! It seems so wonderful that I can't believe it! Half an hour ago the world was black, hopeless, while now——; but there are things I must tell you, things I've wanted to tell you ever since I saw you last."
"Is it about that woman?"
"Yes, I wanted to tell you why I was with her; I wanted you to know that she was nothing to me."
"I knew all the time. But you were in danger—that was why I could not help coming to you. You understand, don't you? I had the same kind of feeling when that evil man was staying with you at the big house. He was trying to harm you, and I came. And he was still trying to ruin you, why I don't know, but he was using that woman to work his will. I felt it, and I came to you."
"How did you know?" asked Dick. He was awed by her words, solemnised by the wondrous intuition which made her realise his danger.
"I didn't know—I only felt. You see, I loved you, and I couldn't help coming."
Another time he would have asked her many questions about this, but now they did not seem to matter. He loved, and was loved, and the fact filled the world.