seemed wrapt up in that--and she asked me as her last wish to do what
she would have done if she had lived; and she spoke of you very
beautifully." Thornton paused for a moment--then he laid his hands on
Helena's shoulders--and she felt them tremble a little. "Miss
Vail--Helena," he said, and his voice was full of passionate earnestness
now, "I cannot say these things well--only simply. I came back here to
take an interest in the work, for I too have it at heart--but I have
more than that now--there is _you_--your dear self. I love you,
Helena--you have come into my life until you are everything and all to
me. Helena, look up at me--will you marry me, dear? Tell me what I long
to hear. Helena, Helena--I love you!"

But Helena did not answer--only very slowly she raised her head. And his
hands on her shoulders tightened, and he was drawing her gently toward
him. Then he bent his head until it was close to hers, and his breath
was upon her cheek as it had been that other night--and the longing to
know that it was hers, a caress, pure in its motive, hers, snatched out
of all that had gone before that sought to rob her of the right to ever
know it, fascinated her, held her spellbound, possessed her. Closer his
lips came to hers, closer, until they touched her--and then, with a cry,
she sprang back, and her hands were fiercely pressed against her cheeks,
her throbbing temples. Was she mad! Mad! Was it for this that she had
forced herself to give him the opportunity to speak to-night, when her
motive was so different, when it had seemed the only _right_ thing left
for her to do!

And now, still holding her temples, she raised her eyes to Thornton--he
had stepped back like a man stricken, his hands dropped to his sides.

"I--we are mad!" she whispered.