hands? Silence and absence and
time are pitiless destructives. Might they not? Aye, might they not? He
paced to and fro, with quick, restless tread, at the thought. All his
love and his longing cried out against such a cruel supposition. He
stopped by the side of the bookcase against which she had fallen in that
merciless and suffering struggle, and put his hand down on the little
projection, which he knew had once cut and wounded her, with a strong,
passionate clasp, as though it were herself he held. Just then he heard
a step,--her step, yet how unlike!--coming down the stairs. Where he
stood he could see her as she crossed the hall, coming unconsciously to
meet him. All the brightness and airy grace seemed to have been drawn
quite out of her. The alert, slender figure drooped as if it carried
some palpable weight, and moved with a step slow and unsteady as that of
sickness or age. Her face was pathetic in its sad pallor, and blue,
sorrowful circles were drawn under the deep eyes, heavy and dim with
the shedding of unnumbered tears. It almost broke his heart to look at
her. A feeling, pitiful as a mother would have for her suffering baby,
took possession of his soul,--a longing to shield and protect her. Tears
blinded him; a great sob swelled in his throat; he made a step forward
as she came into the room. "Papa," she said, without looking up, "you
wanted me?" There was no response. "Papa!" In an instant an arm enfolded
her; a presence, tender and strong, bent above her; a voice, husky with
crowding emotions, yet sweet with all the sweetness of love, breathed,
"My darling! my darling!" as _his_ fair, sunny hair swept her face.

Even then she remembered another scene, remembered her promise; even
then she thought of him, of his future, and struggled to release herself
from his embrace.

What did he say? what could he say? Where were the arguments he had
planned, the entreaties he had purposed? where the words with which he
was to tell his tale, combat her refusal, win her to a willing and happy
assent? All gone.

There was nothing but his heart and its caresses to speak for him.
Silent, with the ineffable stillness he kissed her eyes, her mouth, held
her to his breast with a passionate fondness,--a tender, yet masterful
hold, which said, "Nothing shall separate us now." She felt it,
recognized it, yielded without power to longer contend, clasped her arms
about his neck, met his eyes, and dropped her face upon his he