Page:The Yellow Book - 04.djvu/76

66 head towards him, a gulp in his throat, and caressed her hair.

"There, child, there!" he said soothingly, "you are frightening yourself. Of course not, silly one, of course not."

She crouched against his knees, and he stroked her hair tenderly. Pity pulled at his heart, and at the touch of her he was warmed with affection. He had no means of consolation save this smoothing motion of the palm, but he yearned for some deeper expression of his love and sympathy. In the silence his thoughts turned to their former occupation, and he felt nearer than ever to his wife. He would tell her when she had recovered.

She raised her head at length and looked at him.

"Oh, you will think I'm not brave" she said tremulously, "but I am brave—indeed, George. It is only sometimes that I get this fit of depression, and it overbears me. But it isn't me; it is something quite foreign within me: I was never a coward, dear."

"No, darling," he answered, "of course you are not a coward. You're brave, very brave; you're my dear brave wife." She smiled at him faintly. "And you know, Letty," he went on, still with his hand upon her head. "I think we've been very happy together, and shall be very happy together, always. There is so much that binds us to one another. You love me, dear, don't you? and you could never doubt that I love you, could you?"

Letty shook her head. He cast down his eyes, patting the tresses softly.

"And I think you know that well enough and are certain enough of that not to misjudge me," he resumed quietly. "If I have made a mistake, Letty, it is not you who will be hardest on me, I am sure. It is I myself. If I have fallen into a seeming