Part 46 (2/2)
It was very early. The sudden tropical dawn was only a few minutes old. There was a riot of bird-song outside the window, and a wonderful, dew-washed breeze blowing through the room.
”Mavis?” said Bill.
He was on his knees beside the bed. I put out one bandaged hand and clumsily touched his hair.
”Do you know what you've done?” he asked.
”Been a fool, as usual,” I suggested, looking ruefully at the bandages.
”Sweet little fool,” he said, in that new, deep voice. ”Mavis, how could you, you frightened me almost to death--?”
I thought of those leaping flames, the angry, crimson sky, and shuddered.
”I'm sorry,” I said meekly.
He gave a little low laugh under his quickened breath.
”You love me!” announced my husband arrogantly, beginning, as usual, at the wrong end.
”Why so I do!” I admitted in a small voice.
His arms went around me, gently, closely, and I shut my eyes under the touch of his lips on their lids. The dawn-birds were singing--in the room: in my heart.
”I love you,” said Bill, and kissed my mouth.
I lay quite still then, between tears and laughter.
”It has taken you,” I said, ”a very long time to find it out!”
”It took me,” he contradicted pleasantly, ”about three minutes. From the very first--darling.”
”Me, too!” said I, in utter astonishment. It was true. From the very first. I had fought a good fight, I thought, as I lay there in my utter content, against this heavenly surrender. I pity men who never know this wonderful release of self.
Followed a half-hour of the most ridiculous cross-examination:
”When did you first--?”
”Do you remember--?”
”How could you say--?”
”Whose girl are you, Mavis? Tell me!”
And all the rest of the eternal litany of lovers.
Sarah, peeped in to see how I was. Silas, I discovered from her beaming countenance, was all right. I had forgotten to ask. It was with a.s.sumed enthusiasm that I heard that a portion of the cane had been saved. It really didn't matter--not to me. Nothing mattered. Only Bill, and my sense of Harbor in the Far Country of my dreams--
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