"Nay, that is just it; a man maimed like me has no right to hamper a woman's life--to ask her love. She is grateful for the protection I have brought her, but she has no thought for me beside. I lie here and watch that clock every hour of every day, longing to see her come, hoping for some sign of awakened love, but there is none. That she comes so seldom is evidence that she means me to understand this. I shall never dare ask her again to marry me, but I shall love her always--always." There was an infinite pathos in the last words that silenced his mother, and drew something like a sob from the girl in the shadow of the curtained door. How generous he was; how brave and true he had always been! Never once, even in their days of quarrel and make-up, had she known him lacking in courage and generosity. What would her life be now without him, for had he not made all the crooked ways straight before her; had he not given her back the love and esteem of her neighbours, her old place in the community? Was it not to him she owed all this, and her mother's happiness besides? Gratitude, did he say? Surely that was not all there was in her heart, for gratitude did not make a girl shy and sensitive and dreamy. It was not gratitude that had made her weep so passionately over his suffering and his loss, and kiss a senseless coin in the dark of her chamber. From that hour she had worn it in a silken bag about her neck; she drew it out now and held it in her trembling fingers. Presently Mistress Clevering rose and quitted the room by another door, unwilling that Richard should see her emotion. Joscelyn hesitated upon the threshold, held back by a palpitant timidity, until across the firelit silence there came her name in a sigh that was half a sob:-- "Joscelyn--lost--lost!" Then with a sudden resolve she came out of the shadow into the dim light of the room, and kneeling by his couch, drew his one arm over her shoulder and laid her head on his breast. "I am here--Richard." "You? Dear love, dear love, what does this mean?" "Can you not guess?" she whispered, slipping the gold piece into his hand, her own tremulous with emotion. "I dare not." "What was the gold piece to be?" Her voice was scarcely more than a thread of sound. "Our wedding ring--at least, I hoped so once." She pressed his fingers together over it, her face still hidden on his breast. "Give it back to me sometime--in that shape." "You mean you will marry me? Speak quick, beloved!" "I mean that--that the war is over, and I surrender myself--your prisoner, an you will take me." "My heart's prisoner for time and eternity; thank God!" A burned-out log snapped and fell to either side of the andirons, sending a shower of golden sparks up the wide chimney. She raised her head and looked at him, and by the fleeting gleam of the fire he found at last the love-light for which he had so long waited shining in the depths of her sea-blue eyes. TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: