"A single flame gives little warmth, and needs a kindred spark."
"A single flame gives little warmth, and needs a kindred spark."
Art was none the less dear, but the woman's heart had asserted itself, and there was a yearning passionate cry for a love that would answer to that, which had so strangely grown within her heart, and which called for something more than a lifeless irresponsive idol.
Sometimes, even out of books, the right thing happens just at the right moment; then, again, sometimes it does not; but this is what happened just at that moment. Some one had been standingin the shadow outside the door, for several moments and now entered, and crossing the room, stood beside her, kneeling there, and said:
"Olive."
She stood up quickly, and looked at him for a moment, and knew him, in spite of seven years' absence, and the bronze and change wrought by time and constant travel. Yes, she knew him, for the eyes were the same, and wore the look she had seen in them last. It was a true love that had bided its time, and won its reward at last. She did not blush rosy red, as most women would have done, but a speechless joy came slowly into her eyes, where the tears yet lay, and she was quite silent.
"You have no welcome for me?" he asked, holding out his hand. "Have I waited so long, and come in vain, at last, Olive?"
"No," she answered, finding her voice, and it sounded strangely sweet and glad, even to herself, as she drew nearer and laid her hand in his. "I am glad that you came; I—I have wished that you would."
It was not a romantic place at all, with the three little tumbled beds and sleepers; the diminutive stockings, shoes, and slips, scattered about, and Philip unmistakably snoring, as became a worn-out judge. But as he clasped the hand laid in his, and drawingher to him, kissed her gladly, I doubt if the most romantic spot, either side the sea, could have made that meeting sweeter to either of them.
"I was on the porch when you passed through the hall," said Roger, in a moment. "I had been out there some little time watching you through the window, and studying your face, that I have so longed and hungered to see in these years, and I read in it such complete happiness, that my heart failed me. I had waited till you should reach the perfect goal of your ambition, and should know what it was to own fame; and as I looked at you, to-night, I thought it satisfied your heart entirely. So I was tempted to go away without having you send me. When you came into the hall with the baby, I followed you up here—quite against my will. As you stood here a few moments ago, and I saw that sadness creep into your face and eyes, I first thought that, perhaps, I had not come in vain. And have you really wished that I would come, Olive?"
"Yes; neither my work nor my life is perfect without you, Roger, and I think that I have known it for some time, though I never so fully confessed it to myself as to-night. I honestly sent you from me, and I honestly welcome you back. I have nothing more to wish for now."
So together they went down stairs, and the wanderer's welcome far exceeded his strongest hopes. A new ray of light and joy seemed brought into that circle, with this new union of hands, hearts, and happiness; and as Mrs. Dering kissed each of her girls good-night, she said, looking into Olive's eyes, with a loving smile:
"I fully believe, dear, that now you have no disappointment."
Transcriber's Note:The illustration onpage 267was not available for inclusion in this ebook.
Transcriber's Note:The illustration onpage 267was not available for inclusion in this ebook.