"Joan! Joan!" he said and kissed her.
He did not remember how long he stood there under the bright November stars with Joan in his arms and his face upon her hair. He knew his eyes were wet. He knew there was peace in his heart and a vast content. But something made him dumb and tongue-tied.
"Kenny!" exclaimed Joan. "The lantern!"
"I know, colleen," said Kenny, "but one lantern more or less in an epoch doesn't matter."
"Mr. Abbott will be waiting. Suppose he came to look for me."
"God forbid! I can't—I won't let you go."
"You must!"
"Joan, you are sure, sure you love me?"
"I know," said Joan steadily, "that I love you. I've known it since that night upon the lake when you first spoke of—going. I knew it when you went. And then when you came again. When I think of the farm without you it turns my heart to stone. Every minute that I—I am away from you, I am eager to be back."
"Bless your heart!"