Ben Blair / The Story of a Plainsman - Will Lillibridge

Minutes passed, but still the man could not believe the testimony of his eyes. The confession was too unexpected, too incredible. Unconsciously the grip of his hands tightened.

"Am I—mad?" he gasped. "You care for me—you are willing to go—because you love me?"

Even yet the girl did not answer; but no human being could longer question the expression on her face. Ben Blair could not doubt it, and the reflection of love glowing in the tear-wet eyes flashed into his own. The past, with all that it had held, vanished like the memory of an unpleasant dream. The present, the vital throbbing present, alone remained. Suddenly the tense arms relaxed. Another second, and the brown head was upon his shoulder.

"Florence," he cried passionately, "Florence, Florence!"

He could say no more, only repeat over and over her dear name.

"Ben," sobbed the girl, "Ben! Ben!" An interrupting memory drew her to him closer and closer. "I loved you all the time!—loved you!—and yet I so nearly—can you ever forgive me?"

Wondering at the prolonged silence, Scotty came hesitatingly into the library, peered in at the open doorway, and stood transfixed.

THE END