He took her face in his hands and turned it up to him, but paused as her
lips nearly met his.

"Do you? Why, don't you know, dearest?" he asked tenderly.

"Yes, ah! yes, I do," she said, and the tears sprang to her eyes as
their lips met. "It was because I loved you that I was so sorry when you
went; that every hour and day was a misery to me, and seemed to hang
like lead; it was because I loved you that I could not think of anything
else, and--and all the world became black and dark, and--and--I hated to
be alive. It was because--because of that, was it not?"

He answered with the lover's mute language.

"And--and you love me! It seems so wonderful!" she murmured, looking at
him with her eyes, now deep as violets and dewy with her tears. "So
wonderful! Why--why do you?"

He laughed--the laugh that for the first time in his life had left his
lips.

"Have you no looking-glass in your room, Nell?" he asked. "You beautiful
angel! But not only because you are the loveliest----"

She put her hand to his lips, her face crimson; but he kissed it and
laid it against his cheek.

--"You are not only the loveliest woman I know, but the sweetest, Nell,"
he said. "No man could help loving you."