"God! I'm _glad_!" his voice was on a hushed note. There has never been a limner through all the ages who has pictured--at such a moment--two pairs of eyes reaching, melting into, lost in each other in their human search for the longing soul drawing together human things. Hand and brush and colour cannot touch That which Is and Must Be--in its yearning search for the spirit which is its life on earth. Yet a boy and girl were yearning towards it as they sat in mere mortal form on a bench in a London square. And neither of them knew more than that they wondered at and adored the beauty in each other's eyes. "I didn't know what a little chap I was," he said next. "I'd had a splendid life for a youngster and I was big for my age and ramping with health and strength and happiness. You seemed almost a baby to me, but--it was the way you looked at me, I think--I wanted to talk to you, and please you and make you laugh. You had a red little mouth with deep dimples that came and went near the corners. I liked to see them twinkle." "You told me," she laughed, remembering. "You put the point of your finger in them. But you didn't hurt me," in quick lovely reassuring. "You were not a rough little boy." "I wouldn't have hurt you for worlds. I didn't even know I was cheeky. The dimples were so deep that it seemed quite natural to poke at them--like a sort of game." "We laughed and laughed. It _was_ a sort of game. I sat quite still and let you make little darts at them," Robin assisted him. "We laughed like small crazy things. We almost had child hysterics." The dimples showed themselves now and he held himself in leash. "You did everything I wanted you to do," he said, "and I suppose that made me feel bigger and bigger." "_I_ thought you were big. And I had never seen anything so wonderful before. You knew everything in the world and I knew nothing. Don't you remember," with hesitation--as if she were almost reluctant to recall the memory of a shadow into the brightness of the moment--"I told you that I had nothing--and nobody?" All rushed back to him in a warm flow. "That was it," he said. "When you said that I felt as if some one had insulted and wronged something of my own. I remember I felt hot and furious. I wanted to give you things and fight for you. I--caught you in my arms and squeezed you." "Yes," Robin answered. "It was because of--that time when the morning stars first sang together," he answered smiling, but still as _real_ as before. "It wasn't a stranger child I wanted to take care of. It was some one I had--belonged to--long--long and long. I'm a Highlander and I know it's true. And there's another thing I know," with a sudden change almost to boyish fierceness, "you are one of the things I'm going to face cannon and bayonets for. If there were nothing else and no one else in England, I should stand on the shore and fight until I dropped dead and the whole Hun mass surged over me before they should reach you."