To Elfa, in her loneliness threaded by its own dream, the moment, exquisite and welcome as it was, was yet as natural as her own single being. But to the boy it was not yet the old miracle of one world built from another. It was only the answer to the groping of hands for hands, the mere human call to be companioned. And the need to reassure her came upon him like the mantle of an elder time. "Don't feel afraid," he said. Her eyes gave him their winning upward look, and it was as if their mother watchfulness answered him gravely:-- "I don't. I don't, truly." And at this she laughed a little, so that he joined her; and their laughter together was a new delight. Across the adjoining lawn Nicholas could see in the moonlight the moving figure of the big deacon, a Light Gown or two attending. A sudden surprising sense of safety from them overswept the boy. What if they did come that way! What, he even thought, if those people in the house were to come by? Somehow, the little hollow of dark in which he had always walked in the midst of light was as light as the rest of the world, and he was not afraid. And all this because Elfa did not stir in his arms, but was still, as if they were her harbour. And then Nicholas knew what they both meant. "Elfa!" he cried, "do you...?" "I guess I must...." she said, and knew no way to finish that. "Love me?" said Nicholas, bold as a lion. "I meant that too," Elfa said. Between the New Lady's house and the big, obvious deacon's lawn the boy stood, silent, his arms about the girl. So this was the way the world is, people bound together, needing one another, wanting one another, stretching out their hands.... "Why, it was _you_ I wanted!" Nicholas said wonderingly. XIII HOUSEHOLDRY