"The first night, when I came down to dinner, in that pale green satin gown. Don't you remember?" "As if I could ever forget!" "And you thought I looked like a tiger-lily." "Did I?" "Yes, but you didn't say it and I was glad, for so many other men had said it before." "Perhaps it was because, past all your splendour, I saw you--the one perfect and peerless woman God made for me and sent to me too late." [Sidenote: Kisses] "Not too late for the best of it, dear." "What else do you remember?" "Everything. I haven't forgotten a word nor a look nor a single kiss. The strange sweet fires in your eyes, the clasp of your arms around me, your lips on mine, the nights we've lain awake with love surging from heart to heart and back again--it's all strung for me into a rosary of memories that nothing can ever take away." "That first kiss, beloved. Do you remember?" "Yes. It was here." She stretched out her arm and with a rosy finger-tip indicated the bare, sweet hollow of her elbow, just below the sleeve. Lover-like, he kissed it again. "Do you love me?" "Yes, Boy--for always." "How much?" "Better than everything else in the world. Do you love me?" "Yes, with all my heart and soul and strength and will. There isn't a fibre of me that doesn't love you." "For always?" "Yes, for always." And so they chanted the lover's litany until even the afterglow had died out of the sky. Edith released herself from his clinging arms. "We must go," she sighed. "It's getting late." [Sidenote: If] He assisted her to her feet, and led her to the boat, moored in shallows that made a murmurous singing all around it and upon the shore. He took her hand to help her in, then paused. "If love were all," he asked, "what would you do?" "If love were all," she answered, "I'd put my arms around you, like this, never to be unclasped again. I'd go with you to-night, to the end of the world, and ask for nothing but that we might be together. I'd face the heat of the desert uncomplainingly, the cold of perpetual snows. I'd bear anything, suffer anything, do anything. I'd so merge my life with yours that one heart-beat would serve us both, and when we died, we'd go together--if love were all." "God bless you, dear!" he murmured, with his lips against hers. "And you. Come." The boat swung out over the shallows into the middle of the stream, where the current took them slowly and steadily toward home. For the most part they drifted, though Alden took care to keep the boat well out from shore, and now and then, with the stroke of an oar dipped up a myriad of mirrored stars. [Sidenote: Seeking for a Message] Edith laughed. "Give me one, won't you, please?" "You shall have them all." "But I asked only for one." "Then choose." She leaned forward, in the scented shadow, serious now, with a quick and characteristic change of mood. "The love star," she breathed. "Keep it burning for me, will you, in spite of clouds and darkness--for always?"