She lifted her tear-bright eyes, with the reflection of her subsiding passion in them, and looked yearningly into his. Ollie suddenly found herself feeling small and young, penitent and frail, in the presence of this quickly developed man. His strength seemed to rise above her, and spread round her, and warm her in its protecting folds. There was comfort in him, and promise. The wife of the dead viking could turn to the living victor with a smile. It is a comforting faculty that has come down from the first mother to the last daughter; it is as ineradicable in the sex as the instinct which cherishes fire. Ollie was primitive in her passions and pains. If she could not have Morgan, perhaps she could yet find a comforter in Joe. She put her free hand on his shoulder and looked up into his face again. Tears were on her lashes, her lips were loose and trembling. "If you'd be good to me, Joe; if you'd only be good and kind, I could stay," she said. Joe was moved to tenderness by her ingenuous sounding plea. He put his hand on her shoulder in a comforting way. She was very near him then, and her small hand, so lately cold and tear-damp, was warm within his. She threw her head back in expectant attitude; her yearning eyes seemed to be dragging him to her lips. "I will be good to you, Ollie; just as good and kind as I know how to be," he promised. She swayed a little nearer; her warm, soft body pressed against him, her bright young eyes still striving to draw him down to her lips. "Oh, Joe, Joe," she murmured in a snuggling, contented way. Sweat sprang upon his forehead and his throbbing temples, so calm and cool but a moment before. He stood trembling, his damp elf-locks dangling over his brow. Through the half-open door a little breath of wind threaded in and made the lamp-blaze jump; it rustled outside through the lilac-bushes like the passing of a lady's gown. Joe's voice was husky in his throat when he spoke. "You'd better go to bed, Ollie," said he. He still clung foolishly to her willing hand as he led her to the door opening to the stairs. "No, you go on up first, Joe," she said. "I want to put the wood in the stove ready to light in the morning, and set a few little things out. It'll give me a minute longer to sleep. You can trust me now, Joe," she protested, looking earnestly into his eyes, "for I'm not going away with Morgan now." "I'm glad to hear you say that, Ollie," he told her, unfeigned pleasure in his voice. "I want you to promise me you'll never tell Isom," said she. "I never intended to tell him," he replied. She withdrew her hand from his quickly, and quickly both of them fled to his shoulders. "Stoop down," she coaxed with a seductive, tender pressure of her hands, "and tell me, Joe."