“I knew you wouldn’t understand,” she faltered.
“I love you, Zee,” he said, simply and sincerely, as a man speaks who does not use words lightly. He put his arms about her and drew her close to him. The tears sprang into his eyes as he saw how wholly she yielded her girl’s heart to him and how little there remained to win. He felt her breath, broken with happy little sobs, against his face.
“We have our own life to live, Zee; there is no fate that is stronger than love,” he said.
Midnight had struck. The rain had ceased and the autumn stars looked down benignly upon the world. It was very still in the Dameron house. Zelda sat dreaming before her table, her mother’s little book lying closed before her. A new heaven and a new earth had dawned for her on the day just ended and in her heart there was peace. She rose and lighted a candle and went down through the silent old house, carrying the book in her hand. In the parlor a few coals still burned fitfully in the fireplace and she knelt before it, holding the book against her cheek. Then she poised it above the flames, hesitated a moment and let it fall where the embers were brightest. She watched the leather and paper curl and writhe until they ceased to be distinguishable, and still her eyes rested for a moment upon the place where they had been.
She rose and held the candle close to a photograph of her mother that stood upon the mantel and studied it wistfully.
“Mother, dear little mother!” she whispered. “Morris!”
Then with a smile of happy content showing in the soft light of the candle, she went out into the dark hall and up the long stair to her room.
A LIST of IMPORTANT FICTION
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
LOVE, POLITICS AND PELF