“Ay, ay,” he called cheerily back to her. But Captain Jim had sat by the old fireside of the house of dreams for the last time.
Anne went slowly back to the others.
“It’s so—so pitiful to think of him going all alone down to that lonely Point,” she said. “And there is no one to welcome him there.”
“Captain Jim is such good company for others that one can’t imagine him being anything but good company for himself,” said Owen. “But he must often be lonely. There was a touch of the seer about him tonight—he spoke as one to whom it had been given to speak. Well, I must be going, too.”
Anne and Gilbert discreetly melted away; but when Owen had gone Anne returned, to find Leslie standing by the hearth.
“Oh, Leslie—I know—and I’m so glad, dear,” she said, putting her arms about her.
“Anne, my happiness frightens me,” whispered Leslie. “It seems too great to be real—I’m afraid to speak of it—to think of it. It seems to me that it must just be another dream of this house of dreams and it will vanish when I leave here.”
“Well, you are not going to leave here—until Owen takes you. You are going to stay with me until that time comes. Do you think I’d let you go over to that lonely, sad place again?”
“Thank you, dear. I meant to ask you if I might stay with you. I didn’t want to go back there—it would seem like going back into the chill and dreariness of the old life again. Anne, Anne, what a friend you’ve been to me—'a good, sweet woman—true and faithful and to be depended on’—Captain Jim summed you up.”
“He said 'women,’ not 'woman,’” smiled Anne. “Perhaps Captain Jim sees us both through the rose-colored spectacles of his love for us. But we can try to live up to his belief in us, at least.”