BELOWThe Journaloffice the lake was engaged on its evening’s business. Great freighters, with lighted ends throwing their vast lengths into black relief, moved in dignity across the harbor, past the red, revolving lights into the lake. Excursion steamers, brightly lit from top to bottom, looking like moving palaces in the distance, sailed out with their load of pleasure seekers, and little tugs steamed out cheerily to welcome the great boats which would return to harbor that night. Jim watched it as he had watched it so many nights when he was alone. He would rather be here where there was a sense of Horatia’s presence than go home to the lonely rooms which held the things which he had hoped to share with her. He stood quietly before the window, his face saddened as it had looked since the day he read Jack Hubbell’s letter and his eyes were fixed on the moving lake before him as if he drew from it some comfort or strength. He did not hear the steps on the stairs, but another listener would have noticed how eager they were and wondered at the pause before the door. It opened quietly but Jim did not turn. Then he became conscious that someone was looking at him from the door of his room. He turned and saw Horatia. She stood with her eyes upon him as if she were asking something.And for a moment each was stilled by the rush of emotions that the other roused. Then Jim knew what her question was and with his answer came into his own at last. No longer hesitant, no longer fearful, he seemed to know that she had come back to him, needing him as he needed her, seeking his embrace. He held her close, strong and jealous, and she was content. The resignation in his face had turned to a burning hunger.
“You came back to me!”
“I came back to see if you’d have me.”
But he would have no such humility. He did not want humility.
“I’ll never let you go again. You’ve had your chance. It’s been hell, Horatia. I’ll never let you go.”
She settled into his arms, gently, happily.
“And I was all wrong,” he went on; “I treated you badly. Rose Hubbell is a criminal—she’s bad. When I found out I wanted to come to tell you but I wasn’t sure you’d want me. I’ll never see her again of course.”
“Hush—no promises. I know better than that now. We don’t need to hold each other by promises. We have love. It holds us.”
“We have love.”
He was strong, sure as she had never seen him in his love-making.
“We’ll be married tomorrow—tomorrow. I can’t wait any longer, darling,” he whispered and bent to kiss her.
“Tomorrow,” she breathed exultantly, with a welcome of tomorrow alight in her eyes.
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:repuation any=> reputation any {pg 37}you young Wentwoth=> you young Wentworth {pg 71}curious apparation=> curious apparition {pg 74}suggestd going=> suggested going {pg 92}never wantd=> never wanted {pg 128}fiat definite tones=> flat definite tones {pg 162}In the afternon=> In the afternoon {pg 261}
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
repuation any=> reputation any {pg 37}
you young Wentwoth=> you young Wentworth {pg 71}
curious apparation=> curious apparition {pg 74}
suggestd going=> suggested going {pg 92}
never wantd=> never wanted {pg 128}
fiat definite tones=> flat definite tones {pg 162}
In the afternon=> In the afternoon {pg 261}