Again the plot is too strong for the dialogue. He had her fast in his arms before her confession was finished. Then the two sank on the sofa where she lay sobbing her heart out, he crooning over her--patting her cheeks, kissing away the tears from her eyelids; smoothing the strands of her hair with his strong, firm fingers. It was his Kate that lay in his grasp--close--tightly pressed--her heart beating against his, her warm, throbbing body next his own, her heart swept of every doubt and care, all her will gone. As she grew quiet she stretched up her hand, touching his cheek as if to reassure herself that it was really her lover. Yes! It was Harry--HER Harry--Harry who was dead and is alive again--to whom she had stripped her soul naked--and who still trusted and loved her. A little later she loosened herself from his embrace and taking his face in her small, white hands looked long and earnestly into his eyes, smoothing back the hair from his brow as she used to do; kissing him on the forehead, on each eyelid, and then on the mouth--one of their old-time caresses. Still remembering the old days, she threw back his coat and let her hands wander over his full-corded throat and chest and arms. How big and strong he had become! and how handsome he had grown--the boy merged into the man. And that other something! (and another and stronger thrill shot through her)--that other something which seemed to flow out of him;--that dominating force that betokened leadership, compelling her to follow--not the imperiousness of his father, brooking no opposition no matter at what cost, but the leadership of experience, courage, and self-reliance. With this the sense of possession swept over her. He was all her own and for ever! A man to lean upon; a man to be proud of; one who would listen and understand: to whom she could surrender her last stronghold--her will. And the comfort of it all; the rest, the quiet, the assurance of everlasting peace: she who had been so torn and buffeted and heart-sore. For many minutes she lay still from sheer happiness, thrilled by the warmth and pressure of his strong arms. At last, when another thought could squeeze itself into her mind, she said: “Won't Uncle George be glad, Harry?” “Yes,” he answered, releasing her just far enough to look into her eyes. “It will make him well. You made him very happy this morning. His troubles are over, I hear--he's going to get a lot of his money back.” “Oh, I'm so glad. And will we take him with us?” she asked wonderingly, smoothing back his hair as she spoke. “Take him where, darling?” he laughed. “To where we are going--No, you needn't laugh--I mean it. I don't care where we go,” and she looked at him intently. “I'll go with you anywhere in the world you say, and I'll start to-morrow.”