"In very truth, yes. But thou," with a flash in his eyes, "dost care? Hast aught of love for him? Nay, I need not ask thee."
She smiled a little, half sadly.
"I love but thee," she said.
He gave a short, light laugh, then looked grave.
"'Tis another of life's 'Why's,' sweetheart, that awaiteth an answer. Why!—why, in heaven's name, should I have the good fortune to win thee, when he, who I think is far the better gentleman, hath failed?"
As he spoke, the bells of Stratford rang out their joyous pealing, and the sound came to them on the night wind. Then the child, who had been asleep curled up on the soft rug, opened his wondering eyes.
Deb stooped and lifted him, and he laid his curly head against her shoulder.
"Is it Christmas, Deb?" he asked, sleepily.
"Yes, my lamb," she answered; "for, hark! the bells are ringing it in, and they say, 'Peace, Dorien—Peace and goodwill to men.'"
THE END