Page:Steadfast Heart.djvu/260

 “What is it to you?” she gasped, choking with anger.

What was it to him? What was it to him? He stopped, almost drew back from her physically, for as he looked down into her rebellious eyes he knew what it was to him, knew he loved her, recognized at last that he had loved her and would continue to love her—that she was the beginning and the end of things for him, to be worshiped until death!

For the second time he spoke without weighing his words, this time from the depths of his heart. The words were not greatly significant—would not have been from another but Angus; it was his tone which was significant, eloquently, unconsciously significant.

“It—it means a great deal to me,” he said.

Lydia understood. Her anger gave place to something else; to something she could not analyze. In it was something of fear of Angus Burke, of shame, of distrust of herself, of astonishment—but back of it all was a warmth of gladness, an uprush of gladness—a joy which frightened her while it made her happy, a joy of which she was ashamed…. Events had forced her to think of the possibility of loving Angus Burke, to a point beyond thinking of this possibility—but, strangely, never had she considered the point of Angus Burke loving