“Then the past, now that you know it all, does not change your heart to us?” “It only makes you dearer.” “And if I asked you to come back to the home that has been desolate since you went, would you come?” “Gladly, David.” “And if I dared to say I loved you?” She only looked at him with a quick rising light and warmth over her whole face; he stretched both arms to her, and, going to him, Christie gave her answer silently. Lovers usually ascend straight into the seventh heaven for a time: unfortunately they cannot stay long; the air is too rarefied, the light too brilliant, the fare too ethereal, and they are forced to come down to mundane things, as larks drop from heaven’s gate into their grassy nests. David was summoned from that blissful region, after a brief enjoyment of its divine delights, by Christie, who looked up from her new refuge with the abrupt question: “What becomes of Kitty?” He regarded her with a dazed expression for an instant, for she had been speaking the delightful language of lips and eyes that lovers use, and the old tongue sounded harsh to him. “She is safe with her father, and is to marry the ‘other one’ next week.” “Heaven be praised!” ejaculated Christie, so fervently that David looked suddenly enlightened and much amused, as he said quickly: “What becomes of Fletcher?” “He’s safely out of the way, and I sincerely hope he will marry some ‘other one’ as soon as possible.” “Christie, you were jealous of that girl.” “David, you were jealous of that man.” Then they both burst out laughing like two children, for heavy burdens had been lifted off their hearts and they were bubbling over with happiness. “But truly, David, weren’t you a little jealous of P. F.?” persisted Christie, feeling an intense desire to ask all manner of harassing questions, with the agreeable certainty that they would be fully answered. “Desperately jealous. You were so kind, so gay, so altogether charming when with him, that I could not stand by and see it, so I kept away. Why were you never so to me?” “Because you never showed that you cared for me, and he did. But it was wrong in me to do it, and I repent of it heartily; for it hurt him more than I thought it would when the experiment failed. I truly tried to love him, but I couldn’t.” “Yet he had so much to offer, and could give you all you most enjoy. It is very singular that you failed to care for him, and preferred a poor old fellow like me,” said David, beaming at her like a beatified man.