“Yes. Are you?” he replied, low-voiced.
“I've only to put on my hood. I think luck favors you. Hester was here and she said Elder Smith told some one that Mary hadn't been offered anything to eat yet. So I'm taking her a little. It'll be a good excuse for me to get in the school-house to see her. I can throw off this dress and she can put it on in a minute. Then the hood. I mustn't forget to hide her golden hair. You know how it flies. But this is a big hood.... Well, I'm ready now. And—this 's our last time together.”
“Ruth, what can I say—how can I thank you?”
“I don't want any thanks. It'll be something to think of always—to make me happy.... Only I'd like to feel you—you cared a little.”
The wistful smile was there, a tremor on the sad lips, and a shadow of soul-hunger in her eyes. Shefford did not misunderstand her. She did not mean love, although it was a yearning for real love that she mutely expressed.
“Care! I shall care all my life,” he said, with strong feeling. “I shall never forget you.”
“It's not likely I'll forget you.... Good-by, John!”
Shefford took her in his arms and held her close. “Ruth—good-by!” he said, huskily.
Then he released her. She adjusted the hood and, taking up a little tray which held food covered with a napkin, she turned to the door. He opened it and they went out.
They did not speak another word.