come—now she began to doubt:—things were very perplexing.
The bell in the kitchen jangled; she jumped up. I went and opened the door. He came in. She gave him one bright look of satisfaction. He saw it, and understood.
“Helen has got some people over—I have been awfully rude to leave them now,” he said quietly.
“What a dreadful day!” said mother.
“Oh, fearful! Your face is red, Lettie! What have you been doing?”
“Looking into the fire.”
“What did you see?”
“The pictures wouldn’t come plain—nothing.”
He laughed. We were silent for some time.
“You were expecting me?” he murmured.
“Yes—I knew you’d come.”
They were left alone. He came up to her and put his arm around her, as she stood with her elbow on the mantelpiece.
“You do want me,” he pleaded softly.
“Yes,” she murmured.
He held her in his arms and kissed her repeatedly, again and again, till she was out of breath, and put up her hand, and gently pushed her face away.
“You are a cold little lover—you are a shy bird,” he said, laughing into her eyes. He saw her tears rise, swimming on her lids, but not falling.
“Why, my love, my darling—why!”—he put his face to her’s, and took the tear on his cheek:
“I know you love me,” he said, gently, all tenderness.
