aced by a mad desire to take
her in my arms and comfort her.

"Julianna!" I cried. "What has happened? Is it the Judge? Tell me! Why
did you come?"

She shook her head and lowered it still more, until the sweeping curve
of her bare neck, from the fine hair behind her ears to the back of the
lace collar of her waist, was visible.

I cannot say what gave me the courage, but I bent over her and kissed
her there, softly.

She looked up then without the slightest indication of either surprise
or reproach.

"I liked that," she whispered. "I didn't know how I was going to tell
you, but now I can."

"Tell me what?" said I, in a choking voice.

"I love you," she said. "I could not let you go. I thought last night
that I could carry it through. I thought my duty was to stay with
father. But it isn't!"

"And you came _here_ to tell me!" I gasped.

"Why not?" she said, with a catch in her voice. "I was afraid I would
never see you again and I love you."

When I think of all the sham there is among women, I treasure the memory
of that simple little explanation. It was delivered as a full answer to
all the conventionalities from here back to the time of the Serpent. It
was spoken in a low but confident voice, with her hands upon her breast
as if to calm the emotions within, and was directed toward me with the
first frank exposure of her eyes which were still wet with tears.

"I have been miserable!" she said. "A woman is meant for some man, after
all. And if she resists, she is resisting God! It all has been shown to
me so clearly. And I knew that you were the one. There's nothing else
that makes any difference, and it sweeps you off your feet, so it must
be nature, because it gave me the courage to telephone you and then try
to find you and come here and wait and come again, and only nature can
make any one go against all her habits and education. And I believe I'll
call you Jerry, if you still--"

"Good God! Love you?" said I. "Forever!"

"Always?"

"Forever."

She gave her burning hands to mine, and oblivious of the old negro,
whose eyes were upon us, we stood there, looking at each other in awe,
very much frightened and very much, for that moment,--and I sometimes
wonder if not in truth,--the centre of the universe.

"You belong to me, Jerry?" she said tearfully. "Now?"

"Yes," said I.

"Then I must go back quickly," she explained, after a moment. "I do not
want father to know yet. I want to prepare the w