And when Athalie felt it stealing over her she looked at Clive and knew that he also felt it. Then her slim hand would steal into his and nestle there, content, fearless, blissfully confident of what was to be.
But it was subtly otherwise with Clive. Once or twice she felt his hand tremble slightly as though a slight shiver had passed over him; and when again she noticed it she asked him why.
"Nothing," he said in a strained voice; "I am very, very happy."
"I know it.... There is no fear mingling with your happiness; is there, Clive?"
But before he replied she knew that it was so.
"Dearest," she murmured, "dearest! You must not be afraid for me."
And suddenly the long pent fears strangled him; he could not speak; and she felt his lips, hot and tremulous against her hand.
"My heart!" she whispered, "all will go well. There is absolutely no reason for you to be afraid."
"Do you know it?"