"Nina," he said, bending his head close to hers, "are you really glad I have come home?"
"Glad!" The tears she had been trying to conceal rushed into her eyes. "Glad, Joe? There are no words that can tell how glad! Oh, we have all missed you so! Sometimes I have thought that Mother would die of grief and longing. And Father—oh, Joe, his patience, his gentleness, his suffering, his noble and generous admission of his mistake——"
"But you, Nina, you——"
She lowered her lashes and gently drew her hand away.
"I, Joe? Why, of course I am glad! Why shouldn't I be glad? Both my dear brothers back from war——"
"But I am not your brother, Princess. I don't want to be your brother." Then suddenly the denial that he had so long set on his heart burst its bonds and cried to her, "Oh, Nina, Nina, dearest, sweetest, loveliest girl in all the world, I don't want you for my sister. I love you, I love you! I want you for my love, my sweetheart, something nearer, dearer, sweeter than a sister—I want you for my wife!"
From Nina's parted lips came a little smothered cry, and she covered her face with her hands.
Joe drew them down gently.
"I have always loved you, Princess. Ever since the day that I first saw you out there on the desolate prairies, lying on the graves of your father and mother. I have always loved you——"
Nina looked up at him, tears flooding the purple splendor of her eyes.