-that strip along the bayou, if he remembered? Oh, he
remembered quite well, but for all that he did not know what she was
talking about. She did not know herself. Then they grew silent; not
from any feeling of the absurdity of such speech between them, for
each had but listened to the other's voice. They became silently
absorbed by the consciousness of each other's nearness. She was
looking at his hand that rested on his knee, and thinking it fuller
than she remembered it before. She was aware of some change in him
which she had not the opportunity to define; but this firmness and
fullness of the hand was part of it. She looked up into his face then,
to find the same change there, together with a new content. But what
she noted beside was the dull scar on his forehead, coming out like a
red letter when his eyes looked into her own. The sight of it was like
a hurt. She had forgotten it might be there, telling its story of pain
through the rest of his life.

"Therese," Hosmer said finally, "won't you look at me?"

She was looking from the window. She did not turn her head, but her
hand went out and met his that was on the seat close beside her. He
held it firmly; but soon with an impatient movement drew down the
loose wristlet of her glove and clasped his fingers around her warm
wrist.

"Therese," he said again; but more unsteadily, "look at me."

"Not here," she answered him, "not now, I mean." And presently she
drew her hand away from him and held it for a moment pressed firmly
over her eyes. Then she looked at him with brave loving glance.

"It's been so long," she said, with the suspicion of a sigh.

"Too long," he returned, "I couldn't have borne it but for you--the
thought of you always present with me; helping me to take myself out
of the past. That was why I waited--till I could come to you free.
Have you an idea, I wonder, how you have been a promise, and can be
the fulfillment of every good that life may give to a man?"

"No, I don't know," she said a little hopelessly, taking his hand
again, "I have seen myself at fault in following what seemed the only
right. I feel as if there were no way to turn for the truth. Old
supports appear to be giving way beneath me. They were so secure
before. It commenced, you remember--oh, you know when it must have
begun. But do you think, David, that it's right we should find our
happiness out of that past of pain and sin and trouble?"

"Therese," said Hosmer firmly, "