She arose slowly to her feet, the tears clinging to her lashes, both
hands outstretched.
"Oh, I thank you! I thank you!" she exclaimed with deep fervor.
"Those words prove you all I ever believed you to be. They give me
hope, courage, patience to remain true to myself, true to my lifelong
ideals of womanhood. I am certain you trust me, comprehend my motives,
and will think no less of me because of my unwillingness to forfeit a
conception of right. He is absolutely nothing to me--nothing. He
never could be. There are times when I feel that his death even could
not fitly atone for the evil he has wrought me. Never again will his
influence touch my life to change its purpose. It is not he that keeps
us apart; it is a solemn, sacred pledge made by a trusting girl in
God's presence--a pledge I cannot forget, cannot break without
forfeiting my self-respect, my honor."
He drew her gently to him, his eyes no longer filled with passion, yet
containing a depth of love that left her helpless to resist his will.
"Beth, dear," he whispered, his lips almost pressing her cheek, "I will
not think of him, but only of you. If you love me I am content. The
mere knowledge itself is happiness. Tell me once again that this is
true."
"It is true, forever true; I love you."
"May I have for this one time the pledge of your lips?"
A single instant she seemed to hesitate, her cheeks flushing hotly, her
dark eyes lowered before his. But she lifted her face, and their lips
met and clung, as though parting must be forever. Amid the closely
gathering shadows he led her back to the vacated stool, and stood
beside her, gently stroking the soft dark hair of the bowed head.
"You have plans?" he questioned quietly. "You have decided how you are
to live while we await each other?"
"Yes," half timidly, as though fearful he might oppose her decision.
"I believe I had better return to my work upon the stage." She glanced
up at him anxiously. "You do not care, do you? It seems to me I am
best fitted for that; I have ambition to succeed, and--and it affords
me something worthy to think about."
"I recall you said once it would be a poor love which should interfere
with the ideals of another."
"Yes, I remember. How long ago that seems, and what a change has since
come over my conceptions of the power of love! I believe it still, yet
in so different a way. Now I would surrender gladly all ambition, all
dream of worldly success, merely to fee alone with the man I love, and
bring him happiness. That--that is all I want; it is everything."