But what is there you can ask of me beyond my hand in
yours, beyond all the comradeship which a woman who has more in her
heart than she dare own, can give?"
Once more the door was opened below. The voice of the singer came
floating up. Then it was closed again and the little passionate cry
blotted out. His lips moved but he said nothing. It seemed suddenly,
from the light in his face, that he might have been echoing those words
which rang in her ears. She trembled and suddenly held her hand across
the table.
"Hold my fingers," she begged. "These others will think that we have
made a bet or a compact. What does it matter? I want to give you all
that I can. Will you be patient? Will you remember that you have found
your way along a very difficult path to a goal which no one yet has ever
reached? I could tell you more but may not that be enough? I want you
to have something to carry away with you, something not too cold,
something that burns a little with the beginnings of life and love, and,
if you will, perhaps hope. May that content you for a little while, for
you see, although I am not a girl, these things, and thoughts of these
things, are new to me?"
He drew a little breath.
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