The girl's heavy breathing deepened into a wild little moaning sound, inexpressibly pitiful, her hungry eyes fixed on his face. She gave way first, and flung herself down upon her knees at his side, her hands seeking his neck. "Albert, I can't _live_ without you now! Take me with you! Don't leave me!" He stooped suddenly and took her in his arms, raised her, and kissed her hair. "I didn't mean it, Maud; I'll never leave you--never! Don't cry!" She drew his face down to hers and kissed it, then turned her face to his breast and laughed and cried. There was a silence; then joy and confidence came back again. "I know now what you meant," the girl cried gayly, raising herself and looking into his face; "you were trying to scare me, and make me show how much I--cared for you--first!" There was a soft smile on her lips and a tender light in her eyes. "But I don't mind it." "I guess I didn't know myself what I meant," he said, with a grave smile. When Mrs. Welsh came in, they were sitting on the sofa, talking in low voices of their future. He was grave and subdued, while she was radiant with love and hope. The future had no terrors for her. All plans were good and successful now. But the boy unconsciously felt the gravity of life somehow deepened by his love. "Why, Maud!" Mrs. Welsh exclaimed, "what is----" "O mother, I'm so happy--just as happy as a bird!" she cried, rushing into her mother's arms. "Why, why!--what is it? You're crying, dear!" "No, I'm not; I'm laughing--see!" Mrs. Welsh turned her dim eyes on the girl, who shook the tears from her lashes with the action of a bird shaking water from its wings. She seemed to shake off her trouble at the same moment. Mrs. Welsh understood perfectly. "I'm very glad, too, dearie," she said simply, looking at the young man with motherly love irradiating her worn face. Albert went to her, and she kissed him, while the happy girl put her arms about them both in an ecstatic hug. "_Now_ you've got a son, mother." "But I've lost a daughter--my first-born." "Oh, wait till you hear our plans!" "He's going to settle down here--aren't you, Albert?" Then they sat down, all three, and had a sweet, intimate talk of an hour, full of plans and hopes and confidences. At last he kissed the radiant girl good night and, going into his own room, sat down by the stove and, watching the flicker of the flames through the chinks, pondered on the change that had come into his life. Already he sighed with the stress of care, the press of thought, which came upon him. The longing uneasiness of the boy had given place to another unrest--the unrest of the man who must face the world in earnest now, planning for food and shelter; and all plans included Maud.