“Alison!” he remonstrated, “you mustn’t say that.”

She straightened up and gazed at him, taking one of his hands in her lithe fingers.

“Oh, but I must!  It is the truth.  I felt that you cared—­women are surer in such matters than men.  I must conceal nothing from you—­nothing of my craftiness.  Women are crafty, you know.  And suppose you fail?  Ah, I do not mean failure—­you cannot fail, now.  You have put yourself forever beyond failure.  But what I mean is, suppose you were compelled to leave St. John’s, and I came to you then as I have come now, and begged to take my place beside you?  I was afraid to risk it.  I was afraid you would not take me, even now, to-night.  Do you realize how austere you are at times, how you have frightened me?”

“That I should ever have done that!” he said.

“When I looked at you in the pulpit you seemed so far from me, I could scarcely bear it.  As if I had no share in you, as if you had already gone to a place beyond, where I could not go, where I never could.  Oh, you will take me with you, now,—­you won’t leave me behind!”

To this cry every fibre of his soul responded.  He had thought himself, in these minutes, to have known all feelings, all thrills, but now, as he gathered her to him again, he was to know still another, the most exquisite of all.  That it was conferred upon him to give this woman protection, to shield and lift her, inspire her as she inspired him—­this consciousness was the most exquisite of all, transcending all conception of the love of woman.  And the very fulness of her was beyond him.  A lifetime were insufficient to exhaust her . . . .

“I wanted to come to you now, John.  I want to share your failure, if it comes—­all your failures.  Because they will be victories—­don’t you see?  I have never been able to achieve that kind of victory—­real victory, by myself.  I have always succumbed, taken the baser, the easier thing.”  Her cheek was wet.  “I wasn’t strong enough, by myself, and I never knew the stronger one . . . .

“See what my trust in you has been!  I knew that you would not refuse me in spite of the fact that the world may misunderstand, may sneer at your taking me.  I knew that you were big enough even for that, when you understood it, coming from me.  I wanted to be with you, now, that we might fight it out together.”

“What have I done to deserve so priceless a thing?” he asked.

She smiled at him again, her lip trembling.

“Oh, I’m not priceless, I’m only real, I’m only human—­human and tired.  You are so strong, you can’t know how tired.  Have you any idea why I came out here, this summer?  It was because I was desperate—­because I had almost decided to marry some one else.”

She felt him start.

“I was afraid of it;” he said.

“Were you?  Did you think, did you wonder a little about me?” There was a vibrant note of triumph to which he reacted.  She drew away from him. a little.  “Perhaps, when you know how sordid my life has been, you won’t want me.”