"Sure," he whispered, "if heaven is half as sweet as this let me die to-morrow."
"You took the blame to save my father. Oh, Tom, I 'll never forgive you."
"Keep on not forgiving me," he suggested, for she had given him another kiss.
"I made him tell me," said she, complying with his request before sitting down by the table, "but the next day you had gone."
"I know," said Moore, "I went out into the country. It helped me, as it always does. It comforted me, but not as you have done."
"And while you were gone I came here every day to see if you had returned."
"What is that?" he demanded. "You came here, dearest?"
Bessie nodded gleefully.
"I did not miss a day, not even Sunday," she said.
"That little devil of a Buster!" cried Moore, glaring around the attic in quest of him. "The imp! Wait till I lay my hands upon him!"