"Are we ever coming back ag'in?" she asked, with sudden fear.
Yes, dear," answered Clayton, divining her thoughts; "whenever
you wish."
After that she grew calmer, and remained quiet so long that she
seemed to have fallen asleep like a tired child relieved of its fears.
Leaning forward, he looked into the darkness. It was after
midnight, surely. The clouds had become lighter, more luminous,
and gradually the moon broke through them, lifting the pall from
the valley, playing about the edge of the forest, and quivering at
last on the window. As he bent back to look at the sleeping girl,
the moonlight fell softly upon her face, revealing its purity of
color, and touching the loosened folds of her hair, and shining
through a tear-drop which had escaped from her closed lashes.
How lovely the face was! How pure! How child-like with all its hidden strength! How absolute her confidence in him! How great her love! It was of her love that he thought, not of his own; but with a new realization of her dependence upon him for happiness, his clasp tightened about her almost unconsciously. She stirred slightly, and, bending his head lower, Clayton whispered in her ear:
Have you been asleep, dear?
She lifted her face and looked tenderly into his eyes, shaking her
head slowly, and then, as he bent over again, she clasped her arms
about his neck and strained his face to hers.
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