steadily into my
face.

"Have I ever lied to you since we were married, Ben?"

"No, darling."

"Have I ever deceived you?"

"Never, I am sure," I responded with a desperate levity, "except for my
good."

"Have I ever deceived you," she demanded sternly, "even for your good?"

"To tell the truth, I don't believe you ever have."

The warm pressure of her body was withdrawn, and rising to her feet, she
stood before me under the blazing light.

"Then I'm not lying to you when I say that I'd have married you if you
hadn't possessed a penny to your name--I'd have married you if--if I'd
had to take in washing."

"Sally!" I cried, and made a movement to recapture her; but pushing me
back, she stood straight and tall, with the fingers of her outstretched
hand touching my breast.

"No, listen to me, listen to me," she said gravely. "As long as I have
you and you love me, Ben, nothing can break my spirit, because the thing
that makes life of value to me will still be mine. If you ever ceased to
love me, I might get desperate, and do something wild and foolish--even
run off with another man, I believe--I don't know, but I am my father's
daughter, as well as my mother's. Until that time comes, I can bear
anything, and bear it with courage--with gaiety even. I can imagine
myself without everything else, but not without you. I love my
child--you know I love my child--but even my child isn't you. If I had
to choose to-night between my baby and you, I'd give him up,--and cling
the closer to you. You are myself, and if I had to choose between
everything else I've ever known in my life and you, I'd let everything
else go and follow you anywhere--anywhere. There is nothing that you can
endure that I cannot share with you. I can bear poverty, I could even
have borne shame. If we had to go to some strange country far away from
all I have ever known, I could go and go cheerfully. I can work beside
you, I can work for you--oh, my dear, my dearest, I am your wife, do you
still doubt me?"

I had fallen on my knees before her, with her open palms pressed to my
forehead, in which my very brain seemed throbbing. As I looked up at
her, she stooped and gathered me to her bosom.

"Do you know me now?" she asked in a whisper.

Then her voice broke, and the next instant she would have sunk down
beside me, if I had not sprung to my feet and lifted her in my arms.
While I held her thus, pressed close against me, something of her
radiant