"Alma, whatever does happen, remember that you are mine,—mine always! Tell me, could you ever forget that?" he questioned almost fiercely.
Alma's sensitive form quivered, and her eyes filled. She tried to draw her hands away, but he held them firm.
"You frighten me, Will. Of course I'm always yours. What troubles you, dear?" she asked tremulously.
A great tenderness superseded his sterner mood. He folded her gently in his arms.
"You have said it, dear. I am so doubtful about everything to-night. I was almost foolish enough to think you wouldn't."
Her white arms lovingly encircled his neck and he could feel her tears wet his face.
"Dear Will, I love you—more to-night than ever. I don't know why. Something new has come to me—a sort of mother-love for my poor, tired Will."
Never had he known her in such a mood. He asked no reason for it. It soothed and quieted his misery. So he gave himself up to being loved as he never before had been privileged to do.
It was ten o'clock when the bell announced a visitor.
Will started from his chair.