With a sudden cry the woman’s head dropped upon her outspread arms, and the merciful tears, so long denied her, gushed forth. Her body heaved, and it seemed to the distraught man that her poor heart must be breaking. He did not know what those tears meant to her. He did not know that the victory of his love was very, very near. Only he saw her bowed in passionate distress, and he had no thought of how to comfort her.
He waited, waited. But the flood once broken loose must needs spend itself. Such is the way with women, of whom he had so small an understanding. He turned away to the window. He stared with unseeing eyes at the fair picture of the beautiful valley. The moments passed––long, dreary moments rapidly changing to minutes. And then at last the storm began to die down, and he turned again towards her and drew a step nearer.
“Jess––Jess,” he murmured.
Then he took another hesitating step.
But his words seemed to have started her tears afresh, and into his eyes came that painful perplexity again.
Again he ventured, and his step this time brought him close to her side.
“Jess, gal––Jess,” he pleaded, with infinite tenderness.
And as the woman continued to sob he stole one arm gently about her waist. She made no move. Only her shaking body calmed, and her tears became more silent.
He strove to draw her towards him, but she clung to the bed-rail with almost child-like persistence, as though she dared not permit herself the hope his encircling arms inspired. But she had not rebuffed him, so with some assertion he thrust his other arm about her, and, exerting force, deliberately turned her towards him.
“Say, don’t you to cry, lass,” he whispered softly. “Don’t you, now. It jest makes me sore right through. It jest makes me feel all of a choke, an’––an’ I want to cry, too. Say, gal, I love you good. I do, Jess––I sure do. Ther’ ain’t nothin’ in the world I wouldn’t do to stop them tears. Come to home, gal––come to home.”