"Virginia, if I could have had what I most wished for in the world, I
should have asked that you should know Abraham Lincoln."

Then she dropped her eyes, and her breath came quickly.

"I--I might have known," she answered, "I might have known what he was. I
had heard you talk of him. I had seen him in you, and I did not know. Do
you remember that day when we were in the summer-house together at
Glencoe, long ago? When you had come back from seeing him?"

"As yesterday," he said.

"You were changed then," she said bravely. "I saw it. Now I understand.
It was because you had seen Mr. Lincoln."

"When I saw him," said Stephen, reverently, "I knew how little and narrow
I was."

Then, overcome by the incense of her presence, he drew her to him until
her heart beat against his own. She did not resist, but lifted her face
to him, and he kissed her.

"You love me, Virginia!" he cried.

"Yes, Stephen," she answered, low, more wonderful in her surrender than
ever before. "Yes--dear." Then she hid her face against his blue coat.
"I--I cannot help it. Oh, Stephen, how I have struggled against it! How I
have tried to hate you, and couldn't. No, I couldn't. I tried to insult
you, I did insult you. And when I saw how splendidly you bore it, I used
to cry." He kissed her brown hair.