There was another pause and then Gertrude said in a very low voice,
"Reggie, have you heard all the stories that they tell?"
"I expect so," answered Reggie soberly; "but, Gertrude, I would have given up all my holiday, except one hour, if I could just say one word to comfort you."
She looked up at him suddenly, startled.
"Reggie," she said, "do you mean that you gave up all your holiday just to get four days to come up and comfort me? Me! after all you have heard!"
"I don't even think about those stories," said Reggie, half scornfully, half indignantly.
"Don't you?" said Gertrude wistfully. "Oh, Reggie, it is a comfort just to see you sitting there; it is indeed! Except at home here—and they've been so good to me—you are the first that has said one kind word to me about it all. I knew you would when you heard. Only I don't feel as if I ought to be looking for comfort or happiness for myself till she is found; you'll understand that, won't you?"
"Yes, I understand. But that's your side of it, Gertrude. There's another side, and that's my side. I want you to listen to what I've come all the way from Scotland to say. I've said it to myself for years. Last night, when the train was rushing down through England, I was saying it to myself over and over again. Now I'm going to say it to you.
"Gertrude, I love you, I shall always love you, I want you to belong to me for always. I only think of the happiness of my life as bound up in you. I think of your love as the best and happiest thing God can give me.
"That's my side of this matter, and I want you to think of it often, and then, when little Maud is found, and we can talk about our own happiness, then you must tell me what you think about your side of it."