er voice.

"Yes, there is," he answered gently.

"Who?" she asked slowly, withdrawing her hand from his caress, an
undefined fear rising in her mind.

"Me. I will go with you."

Jane looked at him with widening eyes. She knew now. She had caught his
meaning in the tones of his voice before he had expressed it, and had
tried to think of some way to ward off what she saw was coming, but she
was swept helplessly on.

"Let us go together, Jane," he burst out, drawing closer to her. All
reserve was gone. The words which had pressed so long for utterance
could no longer be held back. "I cannot live here alone without you.
You know it, and have always known it. I love you so--don't let us live
apart any more. If you must go, go as my wife."

A thrill of joy ran through her. Her lips quivered. She wanted to cry
out, to put her arms around his neck, to tell him everything in her
heart. Then came a quick, sharp pain that stifled every other thought.
For the first time the real bitterness of the situation confronted her.
This phase of it she had not counted upon.

She shrank back a little. "Don't ask me that!" she moaned in a tone
almost of pain. "I can stand anything now but that. Not now--not now!"

Her hand was still under his, her fingers lying limp, all the pathos of
her suffering in her face: determination to do her duty, horror over
the situation, and above them all her overwhelming love for him.

He put his arm about her shoulders and drew her to him.

"You love me, Jane, don't you?"

"Yes, more than all else in the world," she answered simply. "Too
well"--and her voice broke--"to have you give up your career for me or
mine."

"Then why should we live apart? I am willing to do as much for Lucy as
you would. Let me share the care and responsibility. You needn't,
perhaps, be gone more than a year, and then we will all come back
together, and I take up my work again. I need you, my beloved. Nothing
that I do seems of any use without you. You are my great, strong light,
and have always been since the first day I loved you. Let me help bear
these burdens. You have carried them so long alone."

His face lay against hers now, her hand still clasped tight in his. For
an instant she did not answer or move; then she straightened a little
and lifted her cheek from his.

"John," she said--it was the first time in all her life she had called
him thus--"you wouldn't love me if I should consent. You have work to
do here