st his, and her heart beating, and her breast heaving. And
he knew that the strength of the love in her which he had gained was
beyond estimation.

Thus for a time they swung together in ethereal space, breathless
with the motion of their flight. The duration of such moments is--in
words--limitless. Now he held her against him, and again he held her
away that his eyes might feast upon hers until she dropped her lashes
and the crimson tide flooded into her face and she hid it again in the
refuge she had longed for,--murmuring his name. But at last, startled by
some sound without and so brought back to earth, she led him gently to
the window at the side and looked up at him searchingly. He was tanned
no longer.

"I was afraid you had been working too hard," she said.

"So you do love me?" was Bob's answer to this remark.

Cynthia smiled at him with her eyes: gravely, if such a thing may be
said of a smile.

"Bob, how can you ask?"

"Oh, Cynthia," he cried, "if you knew what I have been through, you
wouldn't have held out, I know it. I began to think I should never have
you."

"But you have me now," she said, and was silent.

"Why do you look like that?" he asked.

She smiled up at him again.

"I, too, have suffered, Bob," she said. "And I have thought of you night
and day."

"God bless you, sweetheart," he cried, and kissed her again,--many
times. "It's all right now, isn't it? I knew my father would give his
consent when he found out what you were."

The expression of pain which had troubled him crossed her face again,
and she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, dearest," she said, "I love you. I am doing this for you. You
must understand that."

"Why, yes, Cynthia, I understand it--of course I do," he answered,
perplexed. "I understand it, but I don't deserve it."

"I want you to know," she continued in a low voice, "that I should have
married you anyway. I--I could not have helped it."

"Cynthia!"

"If you were to go back to the locomotive works' tomorrow, I would marry
you."

"On ninety dollars a month?" exclaimed Bob.

"If you wanted me," she said.

"Wanted you! I could live in a log cabin with you the rest of my life."

She drew down his face to hers, and kissed him.

"But I wished you to be reconciled with your father," she said; "I could
not bear to come between you. You--you are reconciled, aren't you?"

"Indeed, we are," he said.

"I am glad, Bob," she answered simply. "I sho