"You seem so happy, Gordon," I said; "what makes it?"
He told me; but when he spoke about that last scene—he has called it the anchor scene ever since—his voice faltered so he could hardly go on.
"We'll put these away to-night," I said, picking up the papers. "But what do you intend to do with—with the money, Gordon?"
"I hadn't thought of it," he answered calmly. Then, after a pause; "but I think we'll enlarge the chapel. It needs it, you know—and this seems like a glorious chance to do it."
I wonder if my face showed my dissent. At any rate, I took the mighty charter and restored it to the desk. "There's one thing we'll do first, Gordon," I said in a voice that implied finality, "and you won't dispute it, either."
"What is it, Helen?" his words full of wonder.
"We'll pay that—that debt of Harold's," I said, my face averted as I leaned over the desk.
He was silent for long. "Yes, Helen," he answered quietly at length; "yes, we'll do that first—that's as holy as the other. Oh, Harold, my son, my son—I wonder where Harold is to-night," the words ringing with a nameless pain.