“What I saw I cannot tell; as with you it was all a blur. But that you did not kill him I am as sure as that the sky is above.”
“I am so glad. You have made me so happy.”
“It needs but a little thing to make your happiness.”
“What is your name?”
“You have heard it more than once. My name is Ferguson—John Ferguson.”
“John!” Returning to her former self, she said it with the simplicity of a little child. She nestled close up to me, as if for comfort. My pulses throbbed. “Why is it that I feel safe when I am near you, and that the nearer I am to you the safer I feel?”
“God grant that you may always feel safe when you are near to me.”
My voice was husky.
“I believe that I always shall feel safe when you are near; I believe I always shall.”
She looked up at me with eyes in which there was something which seemed to burn into my soul. It was with difficulty I kept myself from putting my arm about her. When I spoke, it was awkwardly enough, and with a lumbering choice of ungainly words.