“No,” he replied, “I don’t deserve anything; you’ve given me already more than I ever hoped to gain. Why, you’re the best woman in the whole world, and I——”
She put her hand quickly on his lips. “And you are the best man—better and more patient than any one else could be. Tell me”—she laid her head upon his breast, and he had to bend his own to catch the words—“tell me, what would you do if you found—if it were possible that I did not love you?”
His arms closed more tightly about her. “It isn’t fair to jest about that,” he said. “Why should you think about it at all? You do love me?”
“Yes, of course. But what would you do? Would it mean—oh, how serious you are!—would it mean so much to you? Think: I vex and trouble you a hundred times a day. I know I do, only you’re too good to say anything about it. Wouldn’t it be better if you loved some one—some one who loved you steadily and firmly, just as you deserve to be loved? Wouldn’t it be better?”
“My dearest,” he said, “you don’t understand. I’m only a youngster, I know; but I’m quite sure I never could love any one else; that I want you just as you are, whether smiling or in tears, whether frowning—but that doesn’t happen often—or laughing. Although we’ve been parted such a long time, you seem to be the ’Linda who has grown up with me; we’ve been waiting for each other all this time. Only you mustn’t say such things as this, because you hurt me. I can not think what I should do without you now.”
She looked up at him with a smile, and drew his face down and kissed him. “Rest content,” she whispered. “Only be patient with me; I won’t desert you.”
Comethup walked home thoughtfully, holding that last whispered phrase of hers steadily before him, and striving to banish everything else. He found the captain standing leaning over his garden gate, smoking a cheroot, and looking up and down the road.
“There’s a note for you inside,” said the captain; “it was sent round from the Bell Inn an hour since.”
Comethup, wondering a little, walked into the cottage, followed leisurely by the captain. The note lay on the little table, in the circle of light thrown by the lamp; the young man picked it and tore it open. It was from Brian Carlaw.