"It would be fair to me. Oh, Justin, Justin, it isn't just sweetheart love that I am giving you; it is wife love and mother love—I feel sometimes as if you were my hurt little boy, and that I'd give my life to help you——"
She was not crying, but her voice held an emotion which was deeper than tears; her steadfast eyes met his; her little hands were laid lightly on the covers above his heart.
And suddenly he saw her enthroned—a woman, not a child—a wife, not a playmate. Her youth and beauty were still there to charm him, but back of them was a quality which would hold him until the end—a divine quality of tenderness, of compassion, of eternal constancy.
And, in response, he brought the best that manhood can bring to woman—reverence and that high regard which makes of marriage a spiritual bond.
He tried to speak, but his voice failed. Then, as she bent above him, she heard his whisper:
"Kiss me—my wife!"
In the days which followed the pretty ladies came in a charming procession—Diana and Sophie, little Sara, bravely wistful, Doris escorted by Bobbie. And last, but not least in importance, came Letty Matthews, in a new white dress and rose-wreathed hat, and with happiness glorifying her plain features.
But though they came and went, all these good friends of his, and he smiled and greeted them, his eyes went always beyond them to the little white and gold creature with the woman-eyes. And his voice would call for her, and until she came he would not be content.