which as a legacy this boy had left behind him.

Fisher laid the note reverently aside and spoke with a great gentleness.

"Tell me, dear," he said, "will it make it any easier for you if I go
away? If so--you have only to say so."

The words cost him greater resolution than any he had ever uttered. Yet
he said them without apparent effort.

Molly did not answer him for many seconds. Her head drooped a little
lower.

"I have been--dazzled," she said at last, and there was a piteous quiver
in her voice. "I do not know if I shall ever make you understand."

"You need never attempt it, Molly," he answered very steadily. "I make
no claim upon you. Simply, I am yours to keep or to throw away. Which
are you going to do?"

He paused for her answer. But she made none. Only in her trouble it
seemed to him that she clung to his support.

He drew her a little closer to him.

"Molly," he said very tenderly, "do you want me, child? Shall I stay?"

And at length she answered him, realising that it was to this man, hero
or no hero, she had given her heart.