oved as one being, not two.

"No, you don't understand, thank God. But I will teach you something you
never knew. Love is not only blind, dearest; he is a greedy, selfish
little god."

Then she laughed happily, holding him at arm's-length and looking in his
eyes. "I know it. I know it. I found it out all by myself. Didn't I tell
you in my letter? Oh, David, so was I!" She drew him to her again and
nestled her face in his bosom. "I was jealous of our little son. I
wanted you, David-- Oh! I wanted you." At last came the tears, the
blessed human tears which she had held back so long. But now they did no
harm except to drench her husband's gray tie, and they brought a lovely
flush to her face. "I can't stop, David; I can't stop. I haven't cried
for so long, and now I can't stop."

"Sweetheart, don't try to stop. Cry it all out. Wash the stains from me
of the cruel old world where I have been; cleanse me so that I may see
as clearly as you see; but you would have to cry forever to do that,
wouldn't you, sweet? And soon you must laugh again."

He clasped and comforted her as she was used to comfort her baby,
soothing her and drying her eyes with his own handkerchief. "Yours isn't
large enough for such a flood, is it, sweet?"

"No, a--a--and I--I can-can't find mine," she sobbed "I--I--left it
tucked under baby's chin--and now I've spoiled your pretty gray tie."

"Bless you! They are my tears, and it is my tie--"

"David! He is crying--hark!"

"Helping his mother, is he? Come then, his father will comfort him."

"Hear him. Isn't it a sweet little cry, David?" She smiled at him from
under tear-wet lashes.

"Why, bless you again! Yours was a sweet little cry." They went in, and
he bent over the odd little cradle and lifted the child tenderly from
its soft nest. The wailing ceased, and the fatherhood awoke in him and
laughed with joy as he held the warm little body to his heart, wherein
now, he knew, lay the key of life--the complete and rounded love, God's
gift to man, to be cherished when found, and fought for and held in the
holy of holies of his own soul.

"He isn't afraid, you see, David. How he stares at you! Does he feel it
in his own little heart that you are his father? I have whispered it to
him a thousand, thousand times. Sit here with him, David, and I'll make
you some tea." She busied herself with the tea things--the old life
beginning anew--with a new interest.

"I always make it just as you taught me