Garth tried. He'd never touched the girl's hair before. Its ripples were so soft--so soft! He had not known that a woman's hair could feel so divine as that. For an instant he was afraid that a certain unsteadiness of his fingers would make him awkward. But he almost prayed that it might not, and the prayer--if it was a prayer--had its answer. He happened to be particularly deft. The emerald laurel wreath yielded its secret to him, and without disturbing one of those wonderful golden waves, he laid the glittering thing on the table. "Well, I'll say good night, then, me dear ones," said Mothereen. "It's made me as happy as a bird, sure it has, to see your happiness. The Lord is good to us all, He who brought Johnny back, safe and sound, out o' the Furnace. His blessin' on ye both this night!" Then she was gone. Her words had brought a sense of peace into the room, as if a white dove had flown in. CHAPTER XXX THE VIGIL LIGHT "I'll go and rouse up one of the hotels," said Garth. "But you're in evening dress," Marise reminded him. "You can't come back like that in the morning. Besides, what would the people think?" "Hang the people!" Garth replied. "One can't--unfortunately." "Well, here's a better plan. I'll sit outside in the garden court. I can come in--if you'll let me--before there's any chance of being seen." Marise shivered. "It would be cold!" "Pooh!" said Garth. "It's never really cold here. Don't forget it wasn't exactly a picnic, those years in France. I don't think I shall ever mind cold again." "Anyhow, I should feel a brute sleeping calmly here, with you sitting on a hard bench out of doors. I may not be a very nice person," Marise criticised herself, "but I'm not a thorough-paced _pig_. We must think of some other possible arrangement." "There's only one other possible arrangement. And you'd not consider that possible." "What is it?" rather breathlessly. "For you to make yourself comfortable behind a barricade of those two useful screens in your bedroom, while I sit up in an armchair--or spread myself out on this sofa." "I _do_ consider that possible," said Marise, "now I know what kind of a man you are. That's what we'll do! I'll slip on a dressing-gown and curl up on top of the bed under an eiderdown. And early in the morning the one that's awake will call the other. It's quite simple--and you see I'm not so disagreeable as you thought." "Have I ever given you cause to believe I thought you disagreeable?" "Dear me, yes! Whole heaps of times! Not that it matters." "I suppose it wouldn't matter to you. But it does matter to me, 'what kind of a man' you 'now know' me to be. Have you been studying me? I hadn't noticed it. But if you have, I'd be interested to hear what conclusions you've come to. Do you mind telling me?" "Oh, my conclusions mostly concern your state of mind regarding _me_!" said Marise. "What, according to you, is it?" "Dislike," she replied promptly.