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“And that is why you have set me free?” she questioned.

He bent his head, almost as if the sudden question embarrassed him. “Yes, that,” he said after a moment. “And because I care too much about you to–marry you against your will.”

“And you call that love?” she said.

He made a slight gesture of surprise. “It is love,” he said simply.

His arms were still around her, but she had only to move to be free. She did not move, save that she quivered like a vibrating wire, quivered and hid her face.

“Rufus!” she said.

“Yes?” His head was bent above hers, but he could only see her black hair, so completely was her face averted from him.

Her voice came, tensely whispering. “What if I were–willing to marry you?”

Something of her agitation had entered into him. A great quiver went through him also. But–“You’re not,” he said quietly, with conviction.

A trembling hand strayed upwards, feeling over his neck and throat, groping for his face. “Rufus”–again came the tense whisper–“how do you know that?”

He took the wandering hand and pressed it softly against his cheek. “Because you don’t love me, Columbine,” he said.

“Ah!” A low sob escaped her; she lifted her head suddenly; the tears were running down her face. “But–but–you could teach me, Rufus. You could teach me what love–true love–is. I want the real thing–the real thing. Will you give it to me? I want it–more than anything else in the world.” She drew nearer to him with the words, like a frozen creature seeking warmth, and in a moment her arms were slipping round his neck. “You are so true–so strong!” she sobbed. “I want to forget–I want to forget that I ever loved–any one but you.”

His arms were close about her again. He pressed her so hard against his heart that she felt its strong beating against her own. His eyes gazed straight into hers, and in them she saw again that deep, deep blue as of flaming spirit.

“You mean it?” he said.

Breathlessly she answered him. “Yes, I mean it.”

“Then”–he bent his great head to her, and for the fraction of a moment she saw the meteor-like flash of his smile–“yes, I’ll teach you, Columbine,” he said.

With the words he kissed her on the lips, kissed her closely, kissed her lingeringly, and in that kiss her torn heart found its first balm of healing.

* * *

“Well, what did I say?” crowed Adam a little later. “Didn’t I tell you if you left ’em alone he’d steer her safe into harbour? Wasn’t I right, missus? Wasn’t I right?”

“I’m not gainsaying it,” said Mrs. Peck, with a touch of severity. “And I’m sure I hope as all will turn out for the best.”

“Turn out for the best? Why, o’ course it will!” said Adam, with cheery confidence. “My son Rufus he may be slow, but he’s no fool. And he’s a good man, too, missus, a long sight better than that curly-topped chap. Him and me’s partners, so I ought to know.”

“To be sure you ought,” said Mrs. Peck tolerantly. “And it’s to be hoped that Columbine knows it as well.”

And in the solitude of her own room Columbine bent her dainty head and kissed with reverence the little wild white roses that spoke to her of the purity of a good man’s love.