Then when the delirium of joy had subsided a little,--with what tenderness he took off her hat and furs, and drew her into his arms, on the sofa before the fire.--The superlative happiness to feel her resting there, unresisting, safe in his fond embrace, with those eyes, which had been so stormy and resentful, now melting upon him in softest passion. It seemed heaven to them both. They could not speak coherent sentences for a while--just over and over again they told each other that they loved.--It seemed as if he could not hear her sweet confession often enough--or quench the thirst of his parched soul upon her lips. Then the masterfulness in him which Zara now adored asserted itself. He must play with her hair! He must undo it, and caress its waves, to blot out all remembrance of how its forbidden beauty had tortured him.--And she just lay there in his arms, in one of her silences, only her eyes were slumberous with love. But at last she said, nestling closer, "Tristram, won't you listen to the story that I must tell you? I want there never to be any more mysteries between us again--" And, to content her, he brought himself back to earth-- "Only I warn you, my darling," he said, "all such things are side issues for me now that at last we have obtained the only thing which really matters in life--we know that we love each other, and are not going to be so foolish as to part again for a single hour--if we can help it--for the rest of time." And then his whole face lit up with radiant joy, and he suddenly buried it in her hair. "See," he inurmured, "I am to be allowed to play with this exquisite net to ensnare my heart; and you are not to be allowed to spend hours in state rooms--alone! Oh! darling! How can I listen to anything but the music of your whispers, when you tell me you love me and are my very own!" Zara did, however, finally get him to understand the whole history from beginning to end. And when he heard of her unhappy life, and her mother's tragic story, and her sorrow and poverty, and her final reason for agreeing to the marriage, and how she thought of men, and then of him, and all her gradual awakening into this great love, there grew in him a reverent tenderness. "Oh! my sweet--my sweet!" he said. "And I dared to be suspicious of you and doubt you, it seems incredible now!" Then he had to tell his story--of how reasonable his suspicions looked, and, in spite of them, of his increasing love. And so an hour passed with complete clearing up of all shadows, and they could tenderly smile together over the misunderstandings which had nearly caused them to ruin both their lives. "And to think, Tristram," said Zara, "a little common sense would have made it all smooth!"