She came straight to him where he stood; he had not
dared to run toward her.
"I heard--I followed!" she gasped, and the next moment was sobbing in
his arms.
All his talk to her for a long time was incoherent babbling of love and
remorse. Then he held her close.
"Little girl," he said, "I've learned in the world outside. I've learned
many things. But this--this I've learned bitterly and forever! There's
love of fame and of power and of mere beauty--but there's only one love
after all--that's the love that gives all, is all--that's my love for
you and the love I think you have for me. It is ours--that love. Oh, my
sweetheart, how we will cherish it all the years through!"
After a time he drew her down on the steps and they sat in silence
through long minutes, listening to the muted calling of the crickets in
the grasses, the rustle of the river current, all the soft noises of the
summer night.
Then he bethought himself and drew Madeleine Presson's letter from his
pocket. He gave it to her with a word of explanation.
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