“You will not send me away? You will not send me away?”
Jeffray drew a deep breath, and knew in his heart that the riddle was solving itself as he had prayed.
“How can I send you away from me?” he said.
“Mr. Jeffray!”
“Do you not know? My God, I ought not to speak to you like this! And yet—I cannot help myself.”
She turned suddenly in his arms, red to the bosom.
“It is the dream,” she said. “We cannot help it; no, we cannot kill the truth.”
“The dream?”
“The dream I had on the saint’s night of you at Holy Cross. It has come true, in spite of Dan. I would not change it for all the gold in the wide world.”
Suddenly she put Jeffray’s arms gently away from her, and drew apart with a simple dignity that preserved her womanhood from any air of wantonness. Jeffray felt the subtle change in her, and respected her the more for it.