“I saw the doctor last summer. He warned me then, but I had known the facts for two years before that. They had been hidden from me, but I found them out, and went to the doctor for advice.”
“A year ago! You have known all these months when you have been happy and gay? Then this has nothing to do with to-day. What is troubling you to-day?”
She looked at him blankly. On his face was a great sympathy, a great tenderness, but no sign of the horror and amazement which she had expected. The great tragedy of her family seemed to weigh as nothing as compared to her grief of to-day. The tears rose in her eyes, but they were tears of relief. Her voice faltered in pitiful, childlike fashion.
“I was lonely, and I remembered, and I was afraid—afraid to look forward...”
He bent down and took her hands in his with a firm but gentle pressure.
“Get up! You are not lonely any more. My horse is in the village. Go and get ready, and we will have a ride.” He strengthened his grasp, looking deep into her eyes. “What does it matter to me if every soul belonging to you were mad? You are the sweetest, the sanest woman I have ever met.”