Helen had still been leaning back her head and gazing into his eyes, all her soul uplifted in the glory of her emotion; there was a wild look upon her face,—­and her breath was coming swiftly.  For a moment more she gazed at him, and then she buried her face on his shoulder, crying, “Mine—­mine!” For a long time she clung to him, breathing the word and quite lost in the joy of it; until at last she leaned back her head and gazed up into his eyes once more.

“Oh, David,” she said, “what can I answer you?  I can only tell you one thing, that here I am in your arms, and that I am yours—­yours!  And I love you, oh, before God I love you with all my soul!  And I am so happy—­oh, David, so happy!  Dearest heart, can you not see how you have won me, so that I cannot live without you, so that anything you ask of me you may have?  I cannot tell you any more, because I am trembling so, and I am so weak; for this has been more than I can bear, it is as if all my being were melting within me.  But oh, I never thought that a human being could be so happy, or that to love could be such a world of wonder and joy.”

Helen, as she had been speaking, had sunk down exhaustedly, letting her head fall forward upon her bosom; she lay quite limp in David’s arms, while little by little the agitation that had so shaken her subsided.  In the meantime he was bending over the golden hair that was so wild and so beautiful, and there were tears in his eyes.  When at last the girl was quiet she leaned back her head upon his arm and looked up into his face, and he bent over her and pressed a kiss upon her mouth.  Helen gazed into his eyes and asked him: 

“David, do you really know what you have done to this little maiden, how fearfully and how madly you have made her yours?  I never dreamed of what it could mean to love before; when men talked to me of it I laughed at them, and the touch of their hands made me shrink.  And now here I am, and everything about me is changed.  Take me away with you, David, and keep me—­I do not care what becomes of me, if only you let me have your heart.”

The girl closed her eyes and lay still again for a long time; when she began to speak once more it was softly, and very slowly, and half as if in a dream:  “David,” she whispered, “my David, I am tired; I think I never felt so helpless.  But oh, dear heart, it seems a kind of music in my soul,—­that I have cast all my sorrow away, and that I may be happy again, and be at peace—­at peace!” And the girl repeated the words to herself more and more gently, until her voice had died away altogether; the other was silent for a long time, gazing down upon the perfect face, and then at last he kissed the trembling eyelids till they opened once again.

“Sweet girl,” he whispered, “as God gives me life you shall never be sorry for that beautiful faith, or sorry that you have laid bare your heart to me.”  Long afterwards, having watched her without speaking, he went on with a smile, “I wonder if you would not be happier yet, dearest, if I should tell you all the beautiful things that I mean to do with you.  For now that you are all mine, I am going to carry you far away; you will like that, will you not, precious one?”