The Other Man sighed. His mouth was boyish and for the moment unsteady, but his eyes sought hers as honestly and clearly as the war correspondent's, who had unusual eyes—for a man.
"I think I understand," he said brokenly. "I don't blame any man for loving you, dear—I'm prepared for that—and we've been separated so long, and the moonlight and the palms and the roses and all, and you were used to being loved—I think that's why. You were lonesome, wer'n't you, sweetheart? Didn't you want me?"
Infinite love and infinite pain surged together in her heart, blending into unspeakable tenderness. "Yes, I wanted you," she whispered—"I always want you. I'm—I'm a bit upset just now, but I haven't taken anything away from you to give to anybody else. It's only an undiscovered country—a big one, that he found to-day. I haven't been intentionally dishonourable. I fought but it was no use—he simply swept me off my feet. Forgive me if you can!"
"Good night," he said thickly. "I have played and lost. I lay down my hand."
From the Drawing by Dalton Stevens.
"Hush! There'll never be any need of that word between you and me. I've forgiven you long ago, for everything you've ever done or ever can do. It's an unlimited fund to draw upon—that and my love. You know," he went on in another tone, "that if it were for your happiness, I could give you up, but I'm pretty sure it isn't. You'd never be as happy with anybody you'd only known a week, as you would with me, because I've loved you for years. You have my whole heart, Mabel,—there's never been another woman with even a hint of a claim. I know all your little moods and tenses and you don't have to explain things to me. I know you can't ride backward and you don't like to walk when you have high-heeled shoes on, and a thousand other things that are infinitely dear just because they are you. I was thinking of them all the way down here, and loving them—every one."
"I don't deserve it," she answered, and then broke into a wild sobbing.
The Other Man moved his chair closer and drew her head to his shoulder. "There," he said, slipping a handkerchief into the hand that covered her eyes; "cry if you want to. You're tired—my little girl is tired."