“Away?” she repeated as if scarcely understanding, “must you go away?”
“I think so, dear, in a day or two. Tell me what I can do for you in Radnor.”
“Radnor?” musingly, “how far away that seems! Yes, you can do something for me there—two things. See Jack and tell him all about us and hunt up Mr. Renshawe and tell him we’ve nearly won the day. Hester and I have been maneuvering in his behalf on all occasions. Tell him Nannie treads on air and that any day he may expect a little flag of truce, for cousin Nancy shows signs of surrendering. Will you tell him all that?”
“Julie dear,” bending toward her with a world of tenderness in his voice, “Julie dear, do you never want anything for yourself?”
“Yes,” reaching out her hands with a little childish gesture,—“you.”
He took her in his arms and for a moment there was silence while out in the moonlit trees a mocking-bird called to its mate.
“My little girl,” he said at last tremulously, “is it really true?”
“Oh, how could I do it,” she whispered, “how could I!”
“Love me? I am sure I don’t know and I scarcely dare believe it. Look at me, sweetheart and tell me it is true.”
She raised her beautiful honest eyes and let him look into the depths of her pure soul. “It is so natural to love you and so beautiful,” she said simply.
“But I am no longer a young man, dear. What right have I to ask you to give your young life to me?”
“You didn’t ask me,” with a little fluttering laugh, “I asked you. It is very humiliating for you to remind me of it.”
“Julie!” He was holding her fast as if he never meant to let her go.
“You are not old,” she protested. “It is not years but the spirit that counts, and you are young—just as I am old for my years, and there is no one like you but Hester in the world. I have been loving you so long unconsciously, that I don’t know when it began.”
“But I knew you so well,” she continued, “I was afraid you would have some mistaken sense of honor that would prevent your ever telling me you loved me and I just couldn’t bear that.” Julie’s head was hidden on his shoulder.
“You little saint,” stroking her hair tenderly, “you always seemed to belong to me, as if you were a part of my very life, but I have never felt I was worthy of such a blessing and I have reminded myself a thousand times this past winter that I could only have one place in your affections—the old family friend. When Monsieur Grémond came along I realized more than ever that I had no right to daydreams—that some other man would claim you and carry you away.”