“I know.  But—­I tried living in my world without you—­and I failed.”

He made an inarticulate exclamation, expressive of great joy, and followed it with the age-old demand:  “Tell me when you became willing to come to mine.”

“The night you were in town.”

“What?  Not at Atchison’s dinner?”

“Yes.  I would have come with you then.  I would have come with you from the singing of that song.”

“But you—­you let me think you wanted me to come back!”

“I am only human.  I wanted you to come back.  But—­I wanted you to refuse to come!  If you hadn’t refused—­”

“Yes—­”

“You wouldn’t have towered as high for me as you do now.  I might have loved you, but—­perhaps—­I shouldn’t have—­adored you!”

The last words came in a whisper, and again the wonderful colour poured itself over her face.  Brown, at the sight, bent his head upon her hand, and she put her other hand upon his heavy hair and gently caressed it.  When he lifted his head his eyes were wet.

“Oh, but I don’t deserve that,” he murmured brokenly, and put up his arms and drew her down to him.  Soon he spoke with solemnity.

“Darling, you are not making this great sacrifice wholly for me?  You love—­the One I try to serve?  You will be glad to serve Him, too, with me?”

“Yes, Donald.  But I love Him, I think, through you.  I hope to reach your heights some day, but you will have to lead me there.”

They remembered Mrs. Brainard at last, and they remembered that Helena, also, had had nothing at all to eat since the hour for afternoon tea.  Brown flung open the door into his living-room, his face aglow, and stood laughing at the sight of Mrs. Brainard’s posture in his red rocking-chair.  As if exhausted by the tortures of fatigue and starvation she lay back in an attitude of utter abandonment to her fate, and only the gleam of her eyes and the smile on her lips belied the dejection of her pose.  “It’s a shame!” he cried, coming to her side.  “Or would be if—­you hadn’t aided and abetted it all.”

“Are you happy, Donald dear?” asked the lady, sitting up and reaching up both hands to him.  “Ah, yes; I only need to look at you!”

“So happy I don’t know what I’m doing, you kind, wise friend.”

“Wise?  I wonder if I am.  What will they all say to me, I wonder, when they know the part I’ve played?  Never mind!  Is Helena happy, too?  I hope so, for the poor girl has been through the depths, bless her!”

“Come and see!” And with his arm about her, Donald led her out into the kitchen.

Helena came forward.  “Dearest lady, will you stay and have supper with us?” said she with quite the air of the proud young housewife, and Brown laughed in his delight.

“Had I better stay?” inquired Mrs. Brainard, laughing with the man at her side, while both regarded the figure before them with eyes which missed no note in the appeal of her presence in that place.