Where the Heart Is
"Of course, I know that a quiet, well-meanin' fool like myself hasn'tmuch of a chance with women, but I just thought I'd give you theopportunity of refusin' me, and then we should know where we were."It was leisurely uttered, and without any hint of agitation. The speakerwas lying on his back at the end of a long, green lawn. His hat was overthe upper part of his face, leaving only his mouth visible. It was asingularly kindly mouth. Some critics called it weak, though there wasno sign of nervousness about it. The clean lips made their statementwithout faltering, and without apparent effort, and, having spoken,relaxed into a faint smile that was pleasantly devoid ofself-consciousness.The girl at whose side he lay listened with a slight frown between hereyes. She was quivering inwardly with embarrassment, but she would havedied sooner than have betrayed it. The shyest child found it hard to beshy with Tots Waring. His full name was Tottenham, but nobody dreamed ofusing it. From his cradle onwards he had been Tots to all who knew him.His proposal was followed by a very decided pause. Then, still frowning,the girl spoke."Is it a joke?""Never made a joke in my life," said Tots."Then why don't you do it properly?"There was a decided touch of irritation in the question. The girl wasleaning slightly forward, her hands clasped round her knee. Her blackbrows looked decidedly uncompromising, and there was a faintlycontemptuous twist about her upper lip."Don't be vexed!" pleaded Tots. "I suppose you know by experience howthese things are managed, but I don't. You see, it's my first attempt."Unwillingly, as it were in spite of itself, the contemptuous curvebecame a very small smile. The girl's dark eyes dwelt for severalseconds upon that portion of her suitor's countenance that was visibleunder the linen hat. There was a wonderful serenity about the mouth andchin she studied. They did not look in the least as if their owner weretaking either himself or her seriously. Her own lips tightened a little,and a sudden gleam shot up behind her black lashes--a gleam that had init an elusive glint of malice. She suffered her eyes to pass beyond himand to rest upon a distant line of firs. The man stretched out besideher remained motionless."Why," she said at last, with slight hesitation, "should you take it forgranted that I should refuse you?""Eh?" said Tots. He stirred languidly, and removed the hat from hisface, but he still maintained his easy attitude. He had heavy-liddedeyes, upon the colour of which most people disagreed--eyes that neverappeared critical, and yet were somehow not wholly in keeping with thekindly, half-whimsical mouth. "I'm not takin' it for granted," he said."I only think it likely. You see, all I have to go upon is this: Everyone hereabouts is gettin' married or engaged, except you and me. That,of course, is all right for them, but it isn't precisely excitin' forus. I thought it might be more fun for both of us if we did the same. Atleast, I thought I'd find out your opinion about it, and actaccordin'ly. If we don't see alike about it, of course, there's no moreto be said. We'll just go on as we were before, and hope that somethin'else nice will turn up soon.""To relieve our mutual boredom!" The girl's laugh sounded rather hard."Don't you think," she asked, after a moment, "that we should bore eachother even worse if we got engaged?""Oh, I don't know!" Tots laughed too--an easy, tolerant laugh. "Couldbut try, eh?" he suggested. "I'm tired of this everlastin' lookin' on.""So am I--horribly tired." The girl rose suddenly, with a movementcuriously vehement."But I shouldn't have thought you'd care," she said, with a touch ofbitterness. "I should have thought a bovine existence suited you."Tots sat up deliberately and put on his hat. His manner betrayed noresentment."Really?" he said, with his pleasant smile. "You see, one never knows."He reached up a hand to her, and, wondering a little at herself, shegave him her own to assist him to rise.He got to his feet and stood before her--a loose-limbed, awkward figurethat towered above her, making her feel rather small."It's done, then, is it?" he questioned, still keeping her hand in his.She looked up at him with a nervous laugh. Secretly she was wonderinghow far he was going to carry the joke."Why, of course," she said. "Can you imagine any sane woman refusingsuch a magnificent offer?"Though she suffered that ring of mockery in her voice, she was stillthinking as she spoke that it would serve him right if she frightenedhim well by letting him imagine that she was taking him seriously."Good!" said Tots, in the tone of one well pleased with his bargain. "Itshall be my business to see that you do not regret it."And with the words he drew her hand through his arm, laughing back ather with baffling complacence, and led her down the long lawn with theair of one who had taken possession.* * * * *Ruth Carey had been accustomed to fend for herself nearly all her life.Her lot had been cast in a very narrow groove, and it had not containeda single gleam of romance to make it beautiful. The whole of her earlygirlhood had been spent buried in a country vicarage, utterly out oftouch with all the rest of the world. Here she had lived with hergrandfather, leading a wild and free existence, wholly independent ofsociety, hewing, as it were, a way for herself in a desert that was veryempty and almost unthinkably barren.Then, when she was eight-and-twenty, a silent, curiously undevelopedwoman, the inevitable change had come. Her grandfather had died, and shehad gone out at last beyond the sky-line of her desert into the crowdedthoroughfares of men.The gay crowd of cousins with whom she made her home found herunattractive, and took no special pains to discover further. They wereall younger than she was, and full to the brim of their own variousinterests. Of the five girls, three were already engaged, and one was onthe eve of marriage.It was at this juncture that Tots had lounged into Ruth's considerationand proposed himself as a candidate for her favour.Tots was a familiar friend of the family. Every one liked him in atolerant, joking sort of way. No one took him seriously. He was to actas best man at the forthcoming wedding, being a near friend and the hostof the bridegroom.Uniformly kind to man and beast, he had made himself lazily pleasant tothe unattractive cousin. Circumstance had thrown them a good dealtogether, and he had not quarrelled with circumstance. He had acquiescedwith a smile.He made it appear in some fashion absurd that they should not at leastbe friends, and then, having gained that much, he astounded her byproposing to her. It was a preposterous situation. Having at lengthfreed herself from him, she escaped to the house to review it withburning cheeks. It was nothing but a joke, of course--of course, howeverhe might repudiate the fact, and she resented it with all her might. Shewould teach him that such jokes were not to be played upon her withimpunity. She had no one to defend her from this species of insult. Shewould defend herself. She would fool him as he sought to fool her.But there was a yet more painful ordeal in store for her that night inthe billiard-room, had she but known it. The morrow's bridegroom, FredDanvers, having failed to execute an easy shot, some one accused him ofpossessing shaky nerves."You'll never get through to-morrow if you can't do an easy thing likethat," was the laughing remark.Tots looked up."Oh, rot! The bridegroom has no business to suffer with the jumps.That's the best man's privilege. He does all the work, and has all theresponsibility. Why, I'm shakin' in my shoes whenever I think ofto-morrow, but if it were my own weddin' I shouldn't turn a hair."Young Danvers guffawed at this."Bet you'll turn the colour of this table when the time comes, if itever does come, which I doubt!""Why?" questioned Tots.Danvers laughed again, enjoying the joke. Tots was always more or lessof a butt to his friends."In the first place, you'd never have the courage or the energy topropose. In the second, no girl would ever take you seriously. In thethird--"He broke off, struck silent by a wholly unexpected display of energy onthe part of Tots, who had suddenly hurled a piece of chalk at him fromthe other end of the room. It hit him smartly on the shoulder, leaving awhite patch to testify to the excellence of Tots's aim."I beg your pardon," said Tots mildly. "But you really shouldn't talksuch rot, particularly in the presence of my fiancee."He turned round to Ruth, who was shrinking into a corner behind him, andwith a courtly gesture drew her forward."In the first place," he said, addressing the assembled company with agood-humoured smile, "I had the courage and the energy to propose onlythis afternoon. In the second place, this lady did me the inestimablefavour of takin' me seriously. And in the third place, we're goin' toget married as soon as possible."In the astounded silence that followed these announcements, he stooped,with no exaggeration of reverence, and kissed the icy, trembling hand heheld.* * * * *Ruth never knew afterwards how she came through those terrible moments.She was as one horror-stricken into acquiescence. She scarcely heard thenightmare buzz of congratulation all about her. The only thing of whichshe was vividly conscious, over and above her dumb anguish ofconsternation, was the fast grip of Tots's hand. It seemed to hold herup, to sustain her, while the very soul of her was ready to faint withdismay.She did not even remember later how she effected her escape at last, butshe had a vague impression that Tots managed it for her. It was all verydreadful and incomprehensible. She felt as if she were suddenly caughtin a trap from which there could never be any escape. And she wasterrified beyond all reason.All the night she lay awake, turning the matter over and over, but inevery respect it presented to her a problem too complicated for hersolution. When morning came she was tired out physically and mentally,conscious only of an ardent desire to flee from her perplexities.Her cousin's wedding occupied the minds of all, and she spent theearlier hours in comparative peace in the bustle of preparation. She sawnothing of Tots, and she hoped his responsibilities would keep him toobusy to spare her any of his attention.Vain hope! When she went to her room to don her bridesmaid's dress, shefound a small parcel awaiting her. With a sinking heart, she opened it,a jeweller's box with a strip of paper wound about it. The papercontained a message in four words: "With love from Tots."A wild tumult arose within her, and her fingers shook so that she couldscarcely remove the lid of the box. Succeeding at length, she stoodmotionless, staring with wide, scared eyes at the ring that lay shiningin the sunlight, as though she beheld some evil charm. The diamondsflashed in her eyes and dazzled her, making her see nothing but tinypin-points of intolerable light. Her heart thumped and raced as thoughit would choke her. Unconsciously she gasped for breath. That ring wasto her another bar in the door of her prison-house.At an urgent call from one of her cousins, she started and almost threwthe box, with its contents, into a drawer. Feverishly she began todress. It was much later than she had realised. When she appeared in thehall with the other bridesmaids, some one remarked upon her deathlypallor, but she shrank away behind the bride, anxious only to screenherself from observation. She would have given all she had to haveavoided Tots just then, but there was no escape for her. He was in thechurch-porch as she entered it, though there was no time for more than ahurried hand-clasp.The church was very hot, and the crush of guests great. She listened tothe marriage service as a prisoner might listen to his death sentence.The irrevocability of it was anguish to her tortured imagination. Andall the while she was conscious--vividly, terribly conscious--of Tots'spresence, Tots's inscrutable scrutiny, Tots's triumph of possession. Hewould never let her go, she felt. She was his beyond all dispute. He hadasked, and she had bestowed, not understanding what she was doing.There could be no withdrawal now. She could not picture herself askingfor it, and she was sure he would not grant it if she did. He would onlylaugh.There fell a sudden silence in the church--a curious, unnatural silence.It seemed to be growing very dark, and she wondered, panting, if it werethe darkness that so smothered her. With a sharp movement she lifted herface, gasping as a half-drowned person gasps. And everywhere above,around her, were tiny, dancing points of light.* * * * *"That's better," said Tots. "Don't be frightened. It's all right."He rubbed her cheek softly, reassuringly, and then fell to chafing herweak hands. Ruth lay back against a grave-mound and stared at him. Hewas wonderfully gentle with her, almost like a woman. On her other sideone of her fellow bridesmaids was stooping over her, holding a glass ofwater."You fainted from the heat," she explained. "But you are better now. Ishouldn't go back if I were you. It's just over."With a sense of shame Ruth withdrew her hand from Tots."I'm sorry," she murmured."Nonsense!" said Tots kindly. "Nobody's blamin' you, my child. It's thisinfernal heat. You stay quietly here for a bit. I must go back and seethat Danvers signs his name all right. But I'll come and fetch youafterwards."He departed, and Ruth suddenly realised an urgent need for solitude. Sheturned to her cousin."Do please go! I shall be all right. It is cool and shady here. And theywill be looking for you in the vestry. Please go! I will wait till--Totscomes back."Her cousin demurred a little, but it was obvious that her inclinationfell in with Ruth's request, and it was also quite obvious that Ruth didnot want her. So, after some persuasion, she yielded and went.During the interval that followed, Ruth sat in the quiet corner just outof sight of the vestry door, bracing herself to meet Tots and implorehim to set her free. It was a bad quarter of an hour for her, and when,at the end of it, Tots came, she looked on the verge of fainting again."Sorry I couldn't come before," said Tots. "But my responsibilities areover now, thank the gods. I suppose, now, you didn't have time foranything to eat before you came?"This was the actual truth. Ruth owned it with a feeling of guilt. Andsuddenly she found that she could not speak then. There was somethingthat made it impossible. Perhaps it was the loud clash of the bellsoverhead."I am very sorry," she said again.Tots smiled."You must manage better at our own weddin'," he said. "There's nothin'like fortifyin' yourself with a good substantial meal for an ordeal ofthis sort. You're feelin' better, eh? Take my arm."She obeyed him, still quivering with her fruitless effort to tell him ofthe miserable deception she had unintentionally practised upon him. Shehad a feeling that, if she made him angry, the world itself would stop.Surely no one had ever found Tots formidable before.At the touch of his hand upon hers, she started."What's wrong with it?" queried Tots softly. "Doesn't it fit?"She glanced up in confusion. She was trembling so that she couldscarcely stand. He slipped his arm about her reassuringly, comfortably."Never mind. We must look at it together. I'll take it back if it isn'tright. We'll go through the church, shall we? It's the shortest way."He led her, unresisting, back into the building, and the clamour of thebells merged into the swelling chords of the organ. As they walked sideby side down the empty aisle the strains of Mendelssohn's Wedding Marchtransformed their progress into a triumphant procession, and Tots lookeddown into the girl's face with a smile....There was no help for it. She could not tell him to his face. Graduallythe conviction dawned upon her through another night of racking thought.And there was only one thing left to do. She must go.Soon after sunrise she was up, and writing a note to her aunt. Sheexperienced small difficulty in this. It was quite simple to express herthanks for all the kindness shown her, and to explain that she haddecided to pay a visit to her old home. She scarcely touched upon thesuddenness of her departure. The Careys were all of them sudden in theirways. This move of hers would hardly strike them as extraordinary. Shewas, moreover, so much a stranger among them that it did not seem tomatter in the face of her great need what they thought.But a note to Tots was a different matter altogether, and she sat fornearly two hours motionless above a sheet of paper, considering. In theend she was again overcome by the almost physical impossibility ofputting the intolerable situation into bald words. Simply, she feltutterly incapable of dealing with it. He had told her he was not joking.She had believed the contrary in spite of this assurance. And she haddared to trifle with him, to treat his offer as a jest.How could she explain, how apologise, for such a mistake as this? Thething was beyond words, and at length she gave up the attempt indespair. She would send him back his ring in silence, and perhaps hewould understand. At least, he would know that she was unworthy of thatwhich he had offered her. She took the ring from its hiding-place, andonce more the sunlight flashed upon its stones. For a space she stoodgazing fixedly, as one fascinated. And then, suddenly, inexplicably, hereyes filled with tears, and she packed up the little box hurriedly withfingers that trembled.She directed the parcel to Tots, and put it aside with the intention ofposting it herself. A tiny strip of paper on the floor attracted herattention as she turned. She picked it up. It was only Tots's simplemessage in four short words. She caught her breath sharply as sheslipped it into her dress....Home! Ruth Carey stood in the little inn-parlour that smelt ofhoneysuckle and stale tobacco, and looked across the village street. Itlooked even narrower than in the old days, and the pond on the green hadshrunk to a mere dark puddle. The old grey church on the hill lookedlike a child's toy, and the quiet that brooded everywhere was the quietof stagnation. An ancient dog was limping down the road--the only livingthing in sight.The girl turned from the window with a heavy sigh. She was conscious ofa great emptiness, of a craving too intense to be silenced, a feverishlonging that had in it the elements of a bitter despair. She had fledfrom captivity to the desert. But she had not found relief. She hadescaped indeed. But she was like to perish of starvation in thewilderness.She slept that night from sheer weariness, but, waking in the earlymorning, she lay for hours, listening to the cheery pipings of thebirds, and wondering what she should do with her life. For there was noone belonging to her in a truly intimate sense. She had no near ties.There was no one who really wanted her, except--The burning colourrushed up to her temples. No; even he did not want her now. And againthe loneliness and the emptiness seemed more than she could bear.Dressing, she told herself suddenly and passionately that herhome-coming had been a miserable farce, a sham, and a delusion. And shecalled bitterly to mind words that she had once either read or heard:"Where the heart is, there is home."The scent of honeysuckle and stale tobacco was mingled with that offried bacon as she opened the door of the inn-parlour. It rushed out togreet her in a nauseating wave, and she nearly shut the door again indisgust. But the sight of an immense bunch of roses waiting for her onthe table checked the impulse. She went forward into the room and pickedit up, burying her face in its fragrance.There was a tiny strip of paper twisted about one of the stalks whichshe did not at first perceive. When she did, she unfolded it, wondering.Four words met her eyes, written in minute characters, and it was as ifa meteor had flamed suddenly across her sky. They were words that,curiously, had never ceased to ring in her brain since the moment shehad first read them: "With love from Tots."* * * * *Fully five minutes passed before Ruth crossed the room to thehoneysuckle-draped window, the roses pressed against her thumping heart.Outside, an ancient wooden bench that sagged dubiously in the middlestood against a crumbling stone wall. It was a bench greatly favoured byaged labourers in the summer evenings, but this morning it had but oneoccupant--a loose-knit, lounging figure with a straw hat drawn well downover the eyes, and a pipe thrust between the teeth.As Ruth gazed upon this negligent apparition, it suddenly moved, and thenext instant it stood up in the sunshine and faced her, hat in one hand,pipe in the other."Mornin'" said Tots. "Got somethin' nice for breakfast?" His brown facesmiled imperturbably upon her. He looked pleased to see her, but notextravagantly so.Ruth fell back a step from the window, her roses clutched fast againsther. She was for the moment speechless.Tots continued to smile sociably."Nice, quiet little place--this," he said. "There's a touch of theantediluvian about it that I like. Good idea of yours, comin' here. Noone to get in the way. It won't be disturbin' you if I sit on thewindow-sill while you have your breakfast?"Ruth experienced a sudden, hysterical desire to laugh. He was beyondher, this man--utterly, hopelessly beyond her.She sat down at the table, not with the idea of eating anything, butfrom a sense of sheer helplessness. Tots knocked the ashes from his pipeand took his seat on the window-sill. He did not seem to be aware of anystrain in the situation.After a pause, during which Ruth sat motionless, he turned a little tosurvey her."Not begun yet?" he queried.She looked back at him with a species of desperate courage.This sort of thing could not go on. She must be brave for once.Unconsciously she was still gripping the roses with both hands."Mr. Waring--" she began."Tots," he substituted gently."Well--Tots," she repeated unwillingly, "I--I want to ask yousomething.""Fire away!" said Tots."I want to know--I want to know--" She stumbled again, and broke off indistress.Tots wheeled round as he sat, and brought his long legs into the room."Please don't," she begged hastily. "I--I want you inside."He did not retire again, nor did he advance."You want to know--" he said.With a stupendous effort she faced and answered him."I want to know what made you ask me to marry you."Tots did not at once reply. He sat on his perch with his back to thelight, and contemplated her."I should have thought a clever little girl like you might have guessedthat," he said at length.This was intolerable. She felt her courage ebbing fast."I'm not clever," she said, a desperate quiver in her voice, "and I--I'mnot good at guessing riddles."In the silence that followed, she wondered wildly if she had made himangry at last. Then he spoke in his usual good-natured drawl, and herheart gave a great throb of relief."I think you're chaffin'," he said."I'm not," she assured him feverishly. "I'm not indeed. I always meanwhat I say. That is----""Of course," said Tots, with kindly reassurance. "I knew that. Why, mydear child, that's just what made me do it. I took a likin' to you forthat very reason."She stared at him speechlessly. There was absolutely nothing left tosay. He really cared for her, it seemed. He really cared! And she? Witha gasp of despair she abandoned the unequal strife, and hid her facefrom him in an agony of tears. Why, why, why, had this knowledge come toher so late?He was by her side in an instant, stroking, soothing, comforting her, asthough she had been a child. When she partially recovered herself herhead was against his shoulder, and he was drying her eyes clumsily buttenderly with his own handkerchief."There! there!" he said. "Don't cry any more. Some one's been troublin'you. Just let me know who it is, and I'll wring his neck."She raised herself weakly. The desire to laugh quite left her. Sheleaned her head in her hands, and forced down her tears."You--don't understand," she said at last."Don't I?" said Tots. "Why, I thought we were gettin' on so well.""I know. I know." She was making a supreme effort. It must be now ornever. "You have been very good to me. But--but--we never have got onreally. It was all a mistake.""What do you mean?" said Tots.She fancied his tone had changed a little. It sounded somehow briskerthan usual. He was angry, whispered her panting heart, and if sheangered him--ah, how should she bear it? But the next instant a big,consoling hand pressed her shoulder, and the misgiving passed."Don't tremble like this, little one," he said. "You can't be afraid ofme. No one ever was before. There has been a mistake, you say. What wasit? Can't you bring yourself to tell me?"There was something in his voice that moved her strangely, kindling thatin her which turned her passionate regret to tragedy. Her head sank alittle lower in her hands. How could she tell him? How could she? Yet hemust know, even if--even if it transformed his love to hatred. The barethought hurt her intolerably. He was the only friend she had. Andyet--and yet--he must know. She swallowed a desperate sob, and spoke."I've been deceiving you. I've trifled with you. When you proposed tome--I didn't know--didn't realise--you were in earnest. No one had everproposed to me before. I didn't understand. And when I accepted you--Iwasn't in earnest either. I--I was just spiteful. Afterwards--when Ifound out--it was too late. I couldn't tell you then."The confession went haltingly out into silence. She dared not raise herhead. Moreover, she was weeping, and she did not want him to know it.There was a motionless pause. Then at length the hand on her shoulderbegan to rub up and down, comfortingly, caressingly."Don't cry!" said Tots. "Hadn't you better have some breakfast? Thatbacon must be gettin' pretty beastly."He was not angry, then. That was her first thought. And then again camethat insane desire to laugh. After all, why was she crying? Totsapparently saw no cause for discomfiture.With an effort she controlled herself."No; I'm not hungry," she said. "Won't you--please--settle this matternow?""Only stop cryin'," said Tots. "You have? I say, what a fib! Well, Isuppose I must take your word for it. Now, little one, what is it youwant me to do?"She raised her head in sheer astonishment.No, there was no trace of anger in his face, neither did it betray anydisappointment. Complacent, kindly, quizzical, his eyes met hers, andher heart gave a sudden, inexplicable bound."I--thought you would understand," she faltered. "We--we can't go onbeing engaged, can we?""No," said Tots with instant decision. "Shouldn't dream of borin' you tothat extent. I've had enough of it myself as well." He uttered hispleasant, careless laugh. "I really don't wonder that my courtin' madeyou feel spiteful," he said. "I'm glad you're in favour of cuttin' ittoo."Ruth stared at him blankly. Was he laughing at her? Was this to be herpunishment?He had straightened himself and was smiling down at her, his head withina foot of the bulging ceiling."Tell you what!" he suddenly said. "You eat some breakfast like a goodgirl, and then--I'll show you somethin'. Perhaps you'll let me joinyou?"He did not wait for her consent, but sat down at the table. Ruth rose.He was putting her off, she felt, and she could not bear it. It had costher more than he would ever realise to tell him the truth."I'm very sorry," she said unsteadily, "but--I don't think we quiteunderstand each other yet. You know"--her voice failed suddenly, but shestruggled to recover it, and succeeded--"I am not clever--like otherwomen. I want plain speaking, not hints, I want to be told--in so manywords--that you have set me free.""Why should I tell you what isn't true?" said Tots. He stretched out hishand to her without rising. "I haven't set you free," he said, "and I'mnot goin' to. Is that plain enough?"He caught her hand with the words and drew her gently towards him. "I'lltell you what I am goin' to do," he said. "Come quite close. I want towhisper. You needn't be anxious. This chair is strong enough for two."Gentle as he was in speech and action, there was something irresistibleabout him at that moment--something to which Ruth yielded because therewas no alternative. She went to him trembling, and he drew her downbeside him, holding her every instant closer to him."Still frightened?" he asked her very tenderly. "Still wantin' to runaway?"She hid her face against him dumbly. She could not answer him in words.He went on speaking, softly, soothingly, as if she had been a child."People make a ridiculous fuss about gettin' married," he said. "It'sthe fashion nowadays to make a sort of Punch and Judy show of it for allthe people one ever met, and a few hundreds besides, to come and gapeat. But you and I are not goin' to do that. We're goin' to show somesense, and get married on the quiet, in a little village church I knowof; and then we're goin' into retirement for a time, and when we comeout we shall be old married people, and no one will want to pelt us withshoes and things. Now I've got a weddin'-ring in my pocket, and I hopeit'll fit better than the other. And I've got a special license too.It's a nice, fine mornin', isn't it? And that's all we want. Let's havesome breakfast, and then go and get married!"Ruth raised her head with a gasp. Unexpected as was the whole turn ofevents, she was utterly unprepared for this astounding suggestion."But--but--" she faltered.And then for the first time she saw Tots's eyes, opened wide and lookingat her with an expression there was no mistaking. He took her facebetween his hands."Yes, I know all that," he said, speaking below his breath. "But itdoesn't count, dear--believe me, it doesn't. The only thing that isreally indispensable, we have. So why not--make that do?""Oh, I don't know," she gasped. "I don't know."She was quivering as a harp quivers under the fingers of one who knows,and her whole soul was thrilling to the wild, tumultuous music that hehad called into being there. It was almost more than she couldbear--this miracle that had been wrought upon her. Tots's eyes stillheld her own, and it was as if thereby he showed her all that was bestin life."Why not?" he said again very softly.And suddenly she realised overwhelmingly how close his lips were to herown. In that moment she also knew that greater thing which is immortal.And so she answered him at last in his own words, with a rush ofpassionate willingness that swept away all fear:"Why not?"As their lips met, it seemed to her that her eyes were opened for thefirst time in her life; and everywhere--above, around, within her--wereliving sparks, dazzling, wonderful, unquenchable, of the Eternal Flame.
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