She stood with hands clasped, staring out the window.
“There is a little light showing already,” she exclaimed, pointing. “See, yonder. Oh, I trust they will find her alive, and unhurt. That man, I believe, is capable of any crime. But couldn't you be of some help? Why should you remain here with me? I am in no danger.”
“You really wish me to go, Christie?”
“Not that way—not that way,” and she turned impulsively, with hands outstretched. “Of course I want you here with me, but I want you to help bring Hope back.”
He drew her to him, supremely happy now, every feeling of embarrassment lost in complete certainty of possession.
“And I will,” he said solemnly. “Wherever they may have gone I shall follow. I am going now, dear, and when I come back you'll be glad to see me?”
“Shall I?” her eyes uplifted to his own, and swimming in tears. “I will be the happiest girl in all the world, I reckon. Oh, what a night this has been! What a wonderful night! It has given me a name, a mother, and the man I love.”
He kissed her, not in passion, but in simple tenderness, and as he turned away she sank upon her knees at the window, with head bowed upon the sill. At the door he paused, and looked back, and she turned, and smiled at him. Then he went out, and she knelt there silently, gazing forth into the dawn, her eyes blurred with tears—facing a new day, and a new life.