The gold is hidden; vain thy tears and cries;
Oh, Love, poor Love, why didst thou burn thy ships?”
John Dinsmore holds the girl off at arm’s length and looks down into the sweet, innocent young face with troubled eyes.
“You love me!” he repeated, as though he were not quite sure that he heard aright.
Jess pushes back the soft black curls from her face and laughs gayly, and the sound of her voice is like the music of silver bells. She does not answer his question in words, but nods her dark, curly head emphatically.
His hands fall from her; he turns abruptly and takes one or two turns up and down the length of the long drawing-room.
How shall he utter the words to her which he has come here to say? How shall he tell her that he is there to say good-by to her forever?
“Do you know what I have been thinking ever since I came to this house?” she asked, as he paused an instant by her side, with the deep, troubled look on his face which so mystified her.
“No,” he answered, hoarsely, glad that she was about to say something, for it would give him a moment or two longer in which to come to a conclusion.
“I was thinking how very stupid I am, and how wonderful it was that you married a little simpleton like me.”