The house was now in sight, and a tall figure was issuing from
the side door, putting on a fur cap as it came out on the steps
and down the lane. Ivory was at home, then, and, best of all, he
was unconsciously coming to meet her--although their hearts had
been coming to meet each other, she thought, ever since they
first began to beat.
As she neared the bars she called Ivory's name. His hands were in
the pockets of his great-coat, and his eyes were fixed on the
ground. Sombre he was, distinctly sombre, in mien and gait; could
she make him smile and flush and glow, as she was smiling and
flushing and glowing? As he heard her voice he raised his head
quickly and uncomprehendingly.
"Don't come any nearer," she said, "until I have told you
something!" His mind had been so full of her that the sight of
her in the flesh, standing twenty feet away, bewildered him.
She took a few steps nearer the gate, near enough now for him to
see her rosy face framed in a blue hood, and to catch the
brightness of her eyes under their lovely lashes. Ordinarily they
were cool and limpid and grave, Waitstill's eyes; now a sunbeam
danced in each of them. And her lips, almost always tightly
closed, as if she were holding back her natural speech,--her lips
were red and parted, and the soul of her, free at last, shone
through her face, making it luminous with a new beauty.
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