"Winnie —" he said gently.
The flood-gates burst then, and her heart poured itself out, her head alternately nestling in his neck and raised up to kiss his face, and her arms straining him with nervous eagerness.
"O Winthrop! — O Winthrop! — O dear Winthrop! —" was the cry, as fast as sobs and kisses would let her.
"Winnie —" said her brother again.
"O Winthrop! — why didn't you come!"
He did not answer that, except by the heaving breast which poor Winnie could not feel.
"I am here now, dear Winnie."
"O Winthrop! —" Winnie hesitated, and the burden of her heart would burst forth, — "why aren't you a Christian! —"
It was said with a most bitter rush of tears, as if she felt that the most precious thing she had, lacked of preciousness; that her most sure support needed a foundation. But when a minute had stilled the tears, and she could hear, she heard him say, very calmly,
"I am one, Winnie."