I couldn't speak. I could only look, and kiss the old lady's tiny
hand--ungloved to hold mine, and hung with loose rings of rich, ancient
fashion such as children love to be shown in mother's jewel-box. In
return, she kissed me on both cheeks, and the old man smoothed my hair,
heavily.

"Why yes, that's settled then, you belong to us," he said. "It's just as
if Jimmy'd left you to us in his will. In his last letter the boy told
his mother and me that when we met we'd get a pleasant surprise.
We--silly old folks!--never thought of a love story. We supposed Jim was
booked for promotion, or a new job with some sort of honour attached to
it. And yet we might have guessed, if we'd had our wits about us, for we
did know that Jimmy'd fallen in love at first sight with a girl in
France, before the war broke out."

"He told you that!" I almost gasped. Then he _had_ fallen in love, and
hadn't gone away forgetting, as I'd thought! Or was it some other girl
who had won him at first sight? This was what I said to myself: and
something that was not myself added, "Now, if you don't lose your head,
you will find out in a minute all you've been puzzling over for nearly
four years."

"He told his mother," Mr. Beckett said. "Afterwards she told me. Jim
wouldn't have minded. He knew well enough she always tells me
everything, and he didn't ask her to keep any secret."

"It was when I was sort of cross one night, because he didn't pay enough
attention to a nice girl I'd invited, hoping to please him," Mrs.
Beckett confessed. "He'd just come back from Europe, and I enquired if
the French girls were so handsome, they'd spoiled him for our home
beauties. I let him see that his father and I wanted him to marry young,
and give us a daughter we could love. Then he answered--I remember as if
'twas yesterday!--'Mother, you wouldn't want her unless I could love her
too, would you?' 'Why no,' I answered. 'But you _would_ love her!' He
didn't speak for a minute. He was holding my hand, counting my
rings--these ones you see--like he always loved to do from a child. When
he'd counted them all, he looked up and said, 'It wasn't a French girl
spoiled me for the others. I'm not sure, but I think she was Irish. I
lost her, like a fool, trying to win a silly bet.' Those were his very
words. I know, because they struck me so I teased him to explain. After
a while he did."

"Oh, do tell me what he said!" I begged.

At that minute Jim was alive for us