He could not understand. Not yet. All that he could do was stare at her and wonder and grope confusedly for the explanation. It was clear that something was wrong with Gloria; she dropped down by the fire, she slumped forward, she lay her face upon her crossed arms. He could see the frail body shaking—he could hear her sudden wild sobbing.
The truth came upon him at last, dawning slowly, slowly.
"Gloria!" It was a gasp of more than amazement; consternation was in his heart. "Gloria!"
She lifted her head and sat up. He saw her great wide-open eyes and the tears gushing from them. She fought to control herself, a sob in her throat. She rose and came toward him in strange, wildly uncertain steps.
"Gloria! You——"
"Sh, Mark; you mustn't——"
But he couldn't lie still. He lifted himself upon his elbow and looked at her with wondering eyes. She stood over him, looking on the verge of collapse. Slowly she came down to him, half kneeling, half falling.
"My God," he cried hoarsely. "You went for my bear? You did it."
She tried to smile at him, and into his own eyes there broke a sudden gush of tears.
"You wonderful, wonderful, wonderful Gloria!" he cried out. "There is no girl in all the world could have done that—there is no girl like you."
Her hand was questing his; he caught it and gripped it with all the strength in him; he hurt her, and at last, with the pain, her smile broke through.
"Gloria——"
"Mark?"
"Can you—not so soon, but some day—forgive me?"
She found only a faint whisper with which to answer him; her eyes were as hungry as his.
"Can you forgive, Mark?"
And now, when their eyes clung together as their hands were already clinging, each was marvelling that the other could forgive and love one who had erred so.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Everlasting Whisper, by Jackson Gregory