“You must not stand,” ordered Diana, as she set down the little tray on the table and began to arrange his luncheon. “Kingdom is out and I brought you some lunch myself,” she said simply. “You are very good to me,” said Caleb. She had turned away, and Sammy, who was devoted to her, had again appropriated her hand. “You must not stand,” she repeated, “I will never come here again if you cannot obey the doctor’s orders.” Caleb smiled. “I’d rather obey yours, Miss Royall,” he said, his eyes following the two figures, the woman and the child. Half-way to the door Diana turned and let go the child’s detaining fingers, coming toward him as if with some new resolve. She had never looked more lovely in his eyes, though to him she had always been an exquisite picture. The warm flood of November sunshine filling the room, and the deeper glow on the hearth touched her and vivified the buoyancy and freshness of her personality. Her chin was slightly raised, and the delicate oval of her face glowed with feeling; it seemed to him that her eyes were wonderful. “I want to ask your forgiveness,” she said. “My forgiveness?” he was taken aback, “you have done everything for me, been everything to me; it is I who should ask forgiveness for having been a burden here.” She put aside his thanks with a gesture at once gracious and significant, and the sweetness of her smile arrested the words on his lips. “Nevertheless I ask your pardon,” she said, “for--for my stupidity, my ignorance, my want of manners long ago, when you came here to the house and I treated you with discourtesy. You were always fine; I was hateful. You must have despised me!” He smiled sadly. “I think you know that I did not,” he said. “I deserved it. But since then I have learned to value your friendship, to honor you for the fight you have made.” He turned toward her; his tall gaunt figure seemed to have lost some of its awkwardness, and the homely sweetness of his haggard face had never been more apparent. “You know,” he paused, and then went on with deep emotion, “I recognized then, I do still, the gap between our lives, but it cannot change the one inevitable fact of my existence, my love for you.” The color rose from her chin to the arch of her lovely brow, but her lips quivered. “You know that we have lost almost all we had, and--about my mother?” “I know,” he said simply, “Dr. Cheyney told me, and”--he looked suddenly at Sammy and the dog--“your goodness to these, when you must think--” She looked up, and their eyes met. “Did you think my heart was not big enough for all?” she asked. Sudden joy leaped into his face, transfiguring it. “Diana,” he exclaimed, “is it possible that through it all, in spite of it all, you love me?” She smiled. “I think I always loved you, Caleb,” she said. THE END [Illustration] _A Stirring Story of Washington Society_ THE REAPING By MARY IMLAY TAYLOR With Frontispiece in color by George Alfred Williams 12mo. Cloth. $1.50