re. When I
started to leave the room she attempted to detain me, but I thrust her
aside, and went out. That is the whole story, and horrible enough it
seems to me! I dare not think what it must seem to you--you sweet,
sheltered flower! Now that this miserable tale is told, I come tonight
and offer you my love. It is a most tender feeling I harbour for you,
Julia; a possessive, protective, jealous love, which would forever hold
you safe and blameless; which would forever cradle you in the house of
my heart, deep-walled and warm. Nothing that would hurt, or harm, or
blight, or frighten, or pain you should reach you in that sheltered fold
within my breast. Won't you say that you will come--you poor, little
storm-beaten lamb, and give me the deep, dear joy of loving you and
ministering unto you always?"

He did not approach her. He had no right. His confession stood like a
wall between them until she should speak. Her face was burning now. He
could see her flushed cheeks and tinted temples. That she still
refrained from meeting his eyes kindled a faint flame of hope.

"This is a strange story for a girl to hear," she said, speaking each
word low, but distinctly. "I forgive you for the deception about the
money. Uncle Arthur has returned wealthy, and we can refund that to you
soon. But--" she raised her head and looked at him--"can I forgive the
rest?"

"Can you forgive it?" he repeated, pillowing his elbow on his palm, and
resting his chin on his finger and thumb. "Can you forgive it? Your
heart must answer. If you love me--if you love me--"

She could not endure the appeal in his eyes, and her own dropped, with a
sigh.

The moments raced past.

"Julia, have you no word for me?"

Silence unbroken. He waited for a while longer, then moved slowly
towards the door. She heard his footsteps pass and recede, and it seemed
that the hope of her life was going too. He reached the door leading
into the hall.

"John!"

The low call was weighted with despair and love.

In a moment he was standing before her, with both her hands in his.

"You called me!" he whispered, reading the message in her swimming eyes.
"You called me!"

"Back to happiness, John, if I can give it to you! You have borne so
much, poor boy!"

End of Project Gutenberg's The Man from Jericho, by Edwin Carlile Litsey

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN FROM JERICHO ***

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