I should perforce yield. So--as I really
meant not to let you run the risk, and not to run it myself--I lied to
you, my beloved. To you, whom my whole being acclaimed King of my
heart, Master of my will; supreme to me, in love and life,--to YOU I
said: 'I cannot marry a mere boy.' Ah, darling! I do not excuse it. I
do not defend it. I merely confess it; trusting to your generosity to
admit, that no other answer would have sent you away. Ah, your poor
Jane, left desolate! If you could have seen her in the little church,
calling you back; retracting and promising; listening for your
returning footsteps, in an agony of longing. But my Garth is not made
of the stuff which stands waiting on the door-mat of a woman's
indecision."

"The lonely year which followed so broke my nerve, that Deryck Brand
told me I was going all to pieces, and ordered me abroad. I went, as
you know; and in other, and more vigorous, surroundings, there came to
me a saner view of life. In Egypt last March, on the summit of the
Great Pyramid, I made up my mind that I could live without you no
longer. I did not see myself wrong; but I yearned so for your love, and
to pour mine upon you, my beloved, that I concluded it was worth the
risk. I made up my mind to take the next boat home, and send for you.
Then--oh, my own boy--I heard. I wrote to you; and you would not let me
come."

"Now I know perfectly well, that you might say: 'She did not trust me
when I had my sight. Now that I cannot see, she is no longer afraid.'
Garth, you might, say that; but it would not be true. I have had ample
proof lately that I was wrong, and ought to have trusted you all
through. What it is, I will tell you later. All I can say now is: that,
if your dear shining eyes could see, they would see, NOW, a woman who
is, trustfully and unquestioningly, all your own. If she is doubtful of
her face and figure, she says quite simply: 'They pleased HIM; and they
are just HIS. I have no further right to criticise them. If he wants
them, they are not mine, but his.' Darling, I cannot tell you now, how
I have arrived at this assurance. But I have had proofs beyond words of
your faithfulness and love."

"The question, therefore, simply resolves itself into this: Can you
forgive me? If you can forgive me, I can come to you at once. If this
thing is past forgiveness, I must make up my mind to stay away. But,
oh, my own Dear,--the bosom on which once you laid your head waits for
you with