“You love me?” she gasped.
“Yes, I love you. I never knew till last night.”
“Last night?” she echoed, with her eyes upon his face, now grown pale, but illuminated with a light she had never seen there before.
“Yes, last night. It was always there, Margaret,” he hurried to say, “but only last night I found out I might love you. I never let myself go. I thought I had no right. I mean I thought Barney—” At the mention of his brother's name, the face that had been white with a look almost of horror flamed quickly with red. “Last night,” continued Dick, wondering at the change in her, “I found out, and this morning, Margaret, the whole world is just humming with joy because I know I may love you all I want to. Oh, it's great! I never imagined a fellow could hold so much love or so much joy. Do you understand me, Margaret? Do you knew what I am talking about?” Margaret's face had grown pale and haggard, as with pain, and her eyes were wide open with pity.
“Yes, Dick,” she said slowly, “I know. I have just been learning.” The brave lips quivered, but she kept firm hold of herself. “I know all the joy and—all the pain.” She stopped short at the look in Dick's face. The buoyant, glad light flickered and went out. A look of perplexity, of great fear, and then of desolation, like that on her own face, spread over his. He knew her too well to misunderstand her meaning. She leaned over to him, still kneeling in the grass. “Oh, Dick, dear!” she cried, taking his hand in hers with a mother-touch and tone, “must you suffer, too? Oh, don't say you must! Not with my pain, Dick! Not with my pain!” Her voice rose in a cry, broke into a sob, but still she held him with her eyes.
“Do you say I must?” he answered in a hoarse tone. “I love you with all my heart.”
“Oh, don't Dick, dear,” she pleaded, “don't say it!”
“Yes, I will,” he said, recovering his voice, “because it's true. And I'm glad it's true. I'm glad that I can at last let myself love you. It was only last night when Barney told me about Iola, you know.”
“Yes, yes,” she said hurriedly.
“I had always thought that it was you, and I was glad to think so for Barney. But last night”—here a quick flash of joy came into his face at the memory—“I found out, and this morning I could hardly help shouting it as I came along to you.” He paused, and, leaning toward her, he took her hand. “Don't you think, Margaret, you might perhaps some time.” The piteous entreaty in his voice broke down the girl's proud courage.