She could not have told wherein the
difference lay, but she was keenly aware of its existence. And because
of her knowledge she felt no misgiving, no shadow of fear. She did not
so much as wait for him to come to her. Simply moved by the woman's
instinct that cannot err, she went straight to him, and so into his
arms, clinging to him with a little sobbing laugh, and not speaking at
all, because there were no words that could express what she yet found
it so sublimely easy to tell him. Baring did not speak either, but he
had a different reason for his silence. He only held her closely to him,
till presently, raising her face to his, she understood. And she laughed
again, laughed through tears.
"Weren't you rather quick to give up--hope?" she whispered.
He did not answer her, but she found nothing discouraging in his
silence. Rather, it seemed to inspire her. She slipped her arms round
his neck. Her tears were nearly gone.
"Hope doesn't die so easily," she said softly. "And I'll tell you
another thing that is ever so much harder to kill, that can never die at
all, in fact; or, perhaps I needn't. Perhaps you can guess what it is?"
And again he did not answer her.
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