experience--a horrible one, but, thank Heaven, quickly and safely over
with!--that you cannot believe me when I tell you that the best part of a
decent man's love is not passion, but reverence? His greatest desire, not
possession, but protection? His ultimate aim, not gratification, but
sacrifice?"

He bent over her. She was sitting quite motionless, her head bowed, her
face hidden in her hands; she was trembling from head to foot. He put his
arm around her.

"Don't!" he said, his voice breaking; "don't, Sylvia. I've been rough and
violent--lost my grip on myself--but it's all over now--I give you my
word of honor that it is. Please lift your head up, and tell me that you
forgive me!" He waited until it seemed as if his very reason would leave
him if she did not answer him; then at last she dropped her hands, and
raised her head. The moon shone full on her upturned face, and the look
that Austin saw there was not one of forgiveness, but of something so
much greater that he caught his breath before she moved or spoke to him.

"Are you blind?" she whispered. "Can't you see how I have felt--since
Christmas night, even if you couldn't long before that? Don't you know
why I just couldn't go away? But I thought you didn't care for me--that
you couldn't possibly have kept away from me so long if you did--that you
thought I wasn't good enough--Oh, my dear, my dear--" She laid both hands
on his shoulders.

The next instant she was in his arms, his lips against hers, all the
sorrow and bitterness of their lives lost forever in the glory of their
first kiss.