"Yes," I murmured low, the hot tears dropping from my eyes.
"I suppose you know he can never come back here any more?" he began after a little, the words coming slowly and sadly.
"Yes," I answered; "yes, never any more."
"You're foolish, Helen," and his own voice was choking as he came over and put his arm around me. "When you remember he's a stranger; and then, your mother and I and——"
"Is that all?" I interrupted, sobbing.
"Yes," he said slowly, "yes, that's all."
"Then I'll tell him," I said brokenly; "I'll tell him now."
I stole up-stairs to the attic and knocked at Gordon's door. He opened it; then asked me if I would come in. I looked around; he had begun his simple packing. But he did not speak. Then I held out my arms—and I heard him murmur "Thank God" while he held me tight, so tight, as though he would never let me go.
I faltered out that uncle didn't want him to go until the morning.
"It's morning now," he said firmly, "and I'm just ready to go," from which resolve I was powerless to dissuade him. "I'll stay at the hotel till to-morrow evening," he added.