“Why?” she asked.
A flood of crimson passed over her face like a fire, and left her paler than before.
“Because you are only too dutiful. Would you resist if I were to turn tyrant, I wonder?”
“I have no fear of your turning tyrant,” she answered, with a sad little smile; “you are only too good to me.”
“Good! There can be no question of goodness. If a man picked up a diamond as precious as the Koh-i-noor, could he be good to it? How can I be good to my gem? I have but one thing left in the world to desire, or to pray for.”
“What is that, Martin?”
“To see you happy.”
Again the sudden flame crimsoned her face, that sensitive spiritual face which reflected every change of feeling.
“I am happy, Martin, quite happy, happier than I ever thought to be, now that you are home again. What have I more to desire?”