rtesy:

"I trust you have enjoyed the evening, Woodman?"

The doctor laughed again in his face.

"More than I can possibly tell you!"

Bivens followed to the door and watched him slowly walk down the steps.

CHAPTER XX

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

The two weeks which followed the Bivens ball, were the happiest Harriet
Woodman had known since Nan's shadow had fallen across her life. Every
moment was crowded with the work of preparing for her trip, except the
hours she could not refuse Stuart, who had suddenly waked to the fact
that something beautiful was going out of his life. Every day he asked
her to play and sing for him or go for one of their rambles over the
hills. They talked but little. He simply loved to be alone with her.

Harriet watched him with keen joy, and deep in her heart a secret hope
began to slowly grow.

The day she sailed he refused to go with her to the pier.

"Why Jim, you must come with me!" she protested.

"No, I can't, little pal. Sit down at your piano now and sing my
favourite song and I'll say goodbye here."

"But why?" she pleaded.

"I'm not quite sure how I would behave in public."

Without a word she took off her gloves, sat down at the piano and sung
in low tones of melting tenderness. When the last note died away, he
rose quietly, came to her side, and took her hand.

"I never knew, little girl, how my life has grown into yours until I'm
about to lose you."

"But you're not going to lose me. Remember I'm coming back to sing for
you before thousands. And I'm going to make you proud of me."

"I couldn't know how deeply and tenderly I love you, child, until this
moment when I'm about to say goodbye."

The little figure was very still. Her eyes drooped and her lips
trembled pathetically. She knew that he had said too much to mean a
great deal. He had spoken of his love for her as a "child," when long
ago the child had grown into the tragic figure of a woman who had
learned to wait and suffer in silence.

She tried to speak and her voice failed. Her hand began to tremble in
his.

She turned and faced him with a smile, pressing his hand. The cab was
at the door and her father calling from below.

"Goodbye, Jim," she said tenderly.

"Goodbye to the dearest little chum God ever sent to cheer a lonely
unhappy man's soul."

A sob stilled his voice and she turned her face away to hide her tears.

He still clung to her hand.

"It's been a long time," he said he