countenance. And now he received a great and impelling change in his spirit, an uplift, a splendid and beautiful consciousness of his good fortune. But what could he say to her? If only he could safely pass over this moment, so he could have time to think, to find himself. Another glance at her encouraged him. She expected nothing—not a word; she took all for granted. She was lost in dreams of her soul.
He looked down again to see her hand—small, shapely, strong and brown; and upon the third finger he espied his ring. He had forgotten to look to see if she wore it. Then softly he touched it and drew her hand in his.
“My ring. Oh, Allie!” he whispered.
The response was a wonderful purple blaze of her eyes. He divined then that his ring had been the tangible thing upon which she had reconstructed her broken life.
“You rode away—so quickly—I had no chance to—tell,” she replied, haltingly and low-voiced. All was sweet shame about her now, and he had to fight himself to keep from gathering her to his breast. Verily this meeting between Allie and him was not what he had anticipated.
He kissed her hand.
“You’ve all the fall and all the winter to tell me such sweet things,” he said. “Perhaps to-morrow I’ll find my tongue and tell you something.”
“Tell me now,” she said, quickly.
“Well, you’re beautiful,” he replied, with strong feeling.
“Really?” she smiled, and that smile was the first he had ever seen upon her face. It brought out the sadness, the very soul of her great beauty. “I used to be pretty,” she went on, naively. “But if I remember how I used to look I’m not pretty any more.”
Neale laughed. He had begun to feel freer, and to accept this unparalleled situation with some composure.
“Tell me,” he said, with gentle voice and touch—“tell me your name. Allie—what?”
“Didn’t you ever know?” she asked.
“You said Allie. That was all.”
He feared this call to her memory, yet he wanted to put her to a test. Her eyes dilated—the light shaded; they grew sad, dark, humid gulfs of thought. But the old, somber veil, the insane, brooding stare, did not return.
“Allie what?” he repeated.
Then the tears came, softening and dimming the pain. “Allie Lee,” she said.
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