Page:The Toll of the Bush.pdf/121

‘There!’ he said. ‘Don’t cry, dear; I won’t trouble you about it any more.’

The term of endearment slipped out unawares, but it sounded natural, and Lena, happily, appeared not to hear.

‘It’s because you are my friend that I couldn’t,’ she sobbed. ‘Don’t you see?’

‘No,’ said the practical Robert after a tremendous strain. ‘But never mind. No doubt you are right, and it’s only my stupidity.’

‘But you think me unfriendly.’

‘No, I don’t. I think you are the nicest, and the prettiest, and the cleverest girl I know.’

Lena laughed through her tears. ‘Boo!’ she said, ‘What a baby I am. But I have been wanting to cry ever since last night. And to think it was you that made me after all.’ She turned a pair of tear-bright, wondering eyes on the delinquent.

‘You know, Lena,’ Robert said seriously, ‘that I would not willingly make you cry for the world. I would do anything to give you happiness.’

Lena rested her chin on her hand and regarded him steadfastly. ‘Do you like me?’ she asked. ‘Do you—almost—love me?’

‘I do love you,’ said Robert.

Lena clapped her hands. ‘Oh, you dear!’ she said, ‘How much do you love me?’

‘A great deal,’ replied Robert, labouring heavily in the strong seas of emotion. ‘It—it covers everything, and goes right out beyond, beyond what I can see, or hear, or feel. But I’m a fool at words, and I couldn’t make you understand.’

‘But I do—I do!’ Lena exclaimed in awed rapture.