te perceived it, and
raising her hand he pressed it to his lips. Still he did not open his
eyes, or speak one word further to the blushing, beautiful woman whose
arm was supporting him, and whose eyes, timid yet loving, were resting
upon his face. If he had been strong, she would never have yielded so
far. But nothing appeals so powerfully to a woman's heart as the sudden
feebleness of a strong man--the man she loves. It is so new and
perilously sweet that he should be dependent upon her, that her arm
should be needed to support him, that his weak voice should call her
name with childish loneliness and impatience if she is not there. And so
Anne at last no longer turned her eyes away, but looked down upon the
face lying upon her shoulder--a face worn by illness and bronzed by
exposure, but the same face still, the face of the summer idler at
Caryl's, the face she had seen during those long hours in the sunset
arbor in the garden that morning, the face of the man who had followed
her westward, and who now, after long hopeless loneliness and pain, was
with her again, and her own forever. A rush of tenderest pity came over
her as she noted the hollows at the temples, and the dark shadows under
the closed eyes. She bent her head, and touched his closely cut hair
with her lips.

"Do not," said Heathcote.

She had not thought that he would perceive the girlish little caress;
she drew back quickly. Then he opened his eyes. It seemed almost as if
he had been trying to keep them shut.

"It is of no use," he murmured, looking at her. "Kiss me, Anne. Kiss me
once. Oh, my darling! my darling!" And with more strength than she
supposed him to possess, he threw his arms round her, drew her lovely
face down to his and kissed her fondly, not once, but many times.

And she, at first resisting love's sweet violence, at last yielded to
it; for, she loved him.

The rain still fell; it was growing toward twilight. Footsteps were
approaching.

"It is Diana," said Anne.

But Heathcote still held her.

"Please let me go," she said, smiling happily.

"Then tell me you love me."

"You know I do, Ward," she answered, blushing deeply, yet with all the
old honesty in her sincere eyes.

"Will you come and say good-night to me if I let you go now?"

"Yes."

Her beautiful lips were near his; he could not help kissing her once
more. Then he released her.

The room was dim. Opening the door, she saw Diana and July coming
through the s