“I had been lying thus for some time, luxuriously drinking in her loveliness, when her eyes lifted and met mine.  And then—­well, I can hardly tell you what happened then, except that I do not believe a word was spoken on either side.  I suppose our eyes had told enough.  Anyhow, the next thing I remember is that my dear girl’s head was on my breast, and one arm flung across the pillow that supported my head.  I have a dim recollection, too, of trying to smooth her hair, and finding my strength too feeble even for that.  That is all, I think; except that we were ludicrously happy, of course—­Tamsin smiling with moist eyes, while I lay still and let the joy of it trickle in my veins.  I am extremely obliged to you, my dear young friend, for not laughing outright at this confession.  It encourages me to add, for exactness, that Tamsin kept putting her hand up to the back of her head.  She has since explained that she felt sure her ‘back-hair’ was coming down.  Women are curious creatures.

“Let me resume.  In the midst of what used to be called a ’love passage,’ the door opened, and in walked Peter Dearlove with a basin of beef-tea.  So quietly did he enter, that the first announcement of his presence was a terrific sound which my experience can compare with nothing unless it be whooping-cough—­the whooping-cough of a robust adult.

“‘This,’ he remarked, setting down the tray and eyeing Tamsin severely, ‘ain’t nussin’ properly so called.’

“I do not think we made any answer to this.

“’Ef a name es to be found for ’t, ’tain’t so much ‘nussin’’ as ‘goin’s on.’’

“‘Your sister has promised to be my wife,’ I ventured.

“‘Beggin’ your pard’n, sir, but the Catechism has summat to say to that.’

“‘The Catechism?’

“‘Iss, sir—­’that stashun o’ life.’  An’ not a word ‘bout raisin’ et, even by th’ use o’ globes—­which some considers unekalled.’

“I put out my hand to cover Tamsin’s, and looked up into her face before I answered him with some heat—­

“’I won’t affect to misunderstand you.  You mean that I am marrying beneath me?’

“He hesitated.

“’There’s two meanin’s to ‘beneath’’

“‘Ah!’ I cried, ‘I am glad you see that.’

“He looked at me slowly and continued—­

“‘Second p’int.  Not so long agone you was talkin’ of a Geraldin.”

“I glanced at Tamsin again and comprehended.

“‘I have been talking—?’

“She nodded.

“‘And you know it all—­the whole story?’

“She nodded again, with a world of healing pity in her eyes.  Then, with a swift glance at her brother, she stooped and kissed me.

“‘Oh!’ said Peter, very shortly; ‘I’m thinkin’ I’d best see Paul ‘bout this;’ and with that he disappeared.

“Whereupon,” concluded Mr. Fogo, “I think I must have dropped asleep again, for I remember nothing after this—­at least, nothing that is worth mention.”