Tremblingly he told her how he had passed the awful hours of the night and failed to find his mother's tomb, but in its stead found this. 'And I brought it that you should know that I had been there,' he said in conclusion, 'that you might know I had been where you willed, and am no coward; and we will take it back together and give it to the holy man up yonder--and now--and now--and now----' His hands touched her, his breath was upon her, his timid yet violent passion blazed in his eyes and quivered all over his frame: he had dared all things for his reward, and he claimed it. But, quick as lightning, and merciless as dishonest, she put the holy image between her and him. The sacred silver froze his burning lips. His arms fell to his side as though they were paralyzed. 'Not while the Gesu is with us,' she murmured in rebuke. 'Let us not be unworthy--you say yourself a miracle was wrought.' 'But----' He stood before her, checked, daunted, breathing heavily, like a horse thrown back on its haunches in full flight. 'Hush!' she said, with a scared look. 'There are people near; I hear them. We will take the Gesu back to the church, but that cannot be till dusk. I will keep Him safe with me. Go, you dear, and clean your skin and your clothes, lest any seeing you should suspect what you have done.' 'I will not go,' he muttered; 'you promised----' 'I promised, oh fool!' she said, with quick passion, 'and my word I will keep, but not while the Gesu is with us. I love you for all you have braved. I love you for all you have done. I will be yours and no other's. See! I swear it on the Holy Child's head!' And she kissed the silver brow of the babe. He was convinced, yet irresolute and impatient. 'Let us go back with it now, then,' he muttered. 'I did but bring him to show you in witness of what I had done.' 'No,' she said, with that imperious command in her voice and her gaze which made the resolve in him melt like wax beneath a flame. 'You cannot be seen with me in such a state as you are. I will carry the Christ back to the church if so be that He rests uneasily in common arms like ours, and then--well, I will pass by your cabin as I come down. Dost complain of that, my ingrate?' A flood of warmth and joy and full belief swept like flame through the whole being of Caris. Her eyes were suffused, her cheek blushed, her lips smiled; he believed himself beloved; he thought himself on the threshold of ecstasy; the minutes seemed like hours until he should regain his hut and watch from its door for her coming. 'You will go now?' he asked eagerly. 'At once,' she answered, holding the Gesu to her as a woman would hold a sucking child. Caris closed his eyes, dazed with her beauty and the wild, sweet thought of how she would hold to her breast some child of his on some fair unborn morrow. 'Then go,' he muttered. 'The sooner we part, the sooner we shall meet. Oh, my angel!'