“Ah, I remember everything now. I was knocked down in the streets, wasn't I? The men did it—Pincher, Hawking, and the rest.”
“They shall be punished, John,” said Glory in a quivering voice. “As sure as heaven's above us and there's law in the land——”
“Aye, aye, laddie” (from somewhere by the door), “mak' yersel' sure o' that. There'll be never a man o' them but he'll hang for it same as a polecat on a barn gate.”
But John shook his head. “Poor fellows! They didn't understand. When they come to see what they've done—— 'Lord, Lord! lay not this sin to their charge.'”
She had wiped away the tears that sprung to her eyes and was sitting by his side and smiling. Her white teeth were showing, her red lips were twitching, and her face was full of sunshine. He was holding her hand and gazing at her constantly as if he could not allow himself to lose sight of her for a moment.
“But I'm half sorry, for all that, Glory,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“That we are not both in the other world, for there you were my bride, I remember, and all our pains were over.”
Then her sweet face coloured up to the forehead, and she leaned over the bed and whispered, “Ask me to be your bride in this one, dearest.”