Will's eyes opened. Never since Peggy's birth had Peggy's mother tolerated the possibility of leaving her. He had always believed that her whole soul centred in the child, and he had been content to believe it; such was the greatness of his love.

"You would never bear to leave Peggy behind," he said.

She laughed at him, her soft, mocking laugh of mischievous, elusive charm. "Do you suppose I shall want a child to look after when I am on my honeymoon? Of course I should leave her behind--not alone with _ayah_, of course. But that could be arranged. Anyhow, it is high time she learned to toddle alone on her own wee legs for a little. She is very independent already. She wouldn't really miss me, you know."

"Wouldn't she?" said Will. "But what of you? Your heart would ache for her from the moment you left her to the moment of your return."

She laughed again, lightly, merrily, her cheek against his sleeve.

"Not with my own man to keep me happy. There were no Peggies in the Garden of Eden, were there?" Then, as he still looked doubtful, "Oh, Will,--my own dearest one--how blind--how blind thou art!"

That moved him, touching him very nearly. He suddenly flushed a deep red. His arm went swiftly round her. "Daisy, Daisy--" he whispered haltingly, "I am not--not more to you than our child?"

She turned her face up to his; her eyes were full of tears though she was smiling still. "More to me than all the world, dear," she whispered back; "dearer to me than my hope of heaven."

She had never spoken such words to him before; he had never dreamed to hear them on her lips. It was not Daisy's way to express herself thus.

In the far-off days of their courtship she had ever, daintily yet firmly, kept him at a distance. Since those days she had suffered shipwreck--a shipwreck from which his love alone had delivered her; but though the bond between them had drawn them very close, he had never pictured himself as ruling supreme in his wife's heart.

He was strongly moved by the revelation; but it was utterly impossible to put his feeling into words. He could only stoop and kiss her with a murmured, "G.o.d bless you, Daisy!"

They parted then, she to follow Peggy and superintend the evening tub, he to return to his desk and his work.

But his work did not flourish that evening; and presently, waxing impatient, he rose and went to seek her, drawn as a needle to a magnet.

He found her dressed for the regimental ball, and such was the witchery of her in her gown of shimmering black that he stood a moment in the doorway of her room as though hesitating to enter.

She turned from her table smiling her gay, sweet smile. Her silvery hair shone soft and wonderful in the lamplight.

"Ah, my dear Will," she said, "are you coming to for once? I wish you would. Do leave that stuffy old work--just to please me!" She went to meet him, with hands coaxingly outstretched. "It's getting late," she said, "I'll help you to dress."

He took the hands, gazing at her as if he could not turn his eyes away.

"There's not much point in my trying to work to-night," he said, his voice very deep and a trifle husky. "I see and think of nothing but you.

Great heavens, Daisy, how lovely you are!"

She laughed at him with tender raillery. "Dearly beloved gander, there is no one in the world thinks so but you."

"You've turned my head to-night," he said, still gazing at her. "By Heaven, I believe I'm falling in love with you all over again."

"Ah, well, it's to some purpose this time," she laughed, "for I'm very badly smitten too."

He did not laugh; he could not. "Daisy," he said, "we will have that honeymoon."

She pressed towards him with eagerness none the less because she pretended it to be half-feigned. "Will, you darling! When? When?"

His arms clasped her. His chest was heaving. "Very soon," he said, speaking softly down into her upraised face. "I've been thinking, dear--thinking very hard, ever since you asked me. I can get long leave in about three months--if I work for it. We'll go Home for the summer, you and I and the kiddie. If you are sure you can bear it, we will take her to Muriel Ratcliffe--and leave her in her charge."

He paused.

"Go on!" breathed Daisy. "And then?"

"Then we will go away together--you and I--you and I--right away into the country, and be--alone."

Daisy drew a deep breath. Her eyes were shining. She spoke no word.

Only, after a moment, her hands stole upwards and clasped his neck.

"Will it do?" said Will.

She nodded mutely.

He held her closely. "Daisy, forgive me for asking--it won't hurt you to go back to England?"

Her eyes met his with absolute candour. "No, dear," she said.

"I was thinking," he said, stumbling a little, "sometimes old scenes, you know--they bring back--old heartaches."

"My heart will never ache--in that way," she answered gently, "while I have you." She paused a moment; then: "I'd like you to understand, Will," she said. "It isn't that I have forgotten. I have simply pa.s.sed on. One does, you know. And I think that is--sometimes--how the last come to be first. It doesn't hurt me any longer to remember my old love.

And it mustn't hurt you either. For it isn't a thing that could ever again come between us. Nothing ever could, Will. We are too closely united for that. And it is your love, your faith, your patience, that have made it so."

She ended with her head back, her lips raised to his, and in the kiss that pa.s.sed between them there was something sacred, something in the nature of a bond.

Yet in a moment she was smiling again, the while she slipped from his close embrace. "And now you are going to dress for the ball. Come, you won't refuse me just for to-night--just for to-night!"

She pleaded with him like a girl and she proved irresistible. Half dazzled by her, he surrendered to her wiles.

"I will come if you like, Daisy; but I'm afraid I shall only be in the way. My dancing has grown very rusty from long disuse."

"What nonsense!" she protested. "Why, I only married you for the sake of your dancing. If you don't come, I shall spend the whole evening dancing with Nick."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of Nick!" said Will. "He is as safe as the Bank of England."

"Is he?" said Daisy. "You wait till you catch us alone some day. I tell you frankly, Will, I've kissed Nick more than once!"

"My dear," he said, "your frankness is your salvation. You have my full permission to do so as often as you meet."

She made a face at him, and finally freed herself. "Many thanks! But you wouldn't like me to create a scandal by dancing with him all the evening, I am sure. So," giving him a small, emphatic push, "go at once and dress your lazy self, and do your duty as a husband for once!"

"Shall I be adequately rewarded for it?" questioned Will, looking back as he turned to go.

She blew him an airy kiss. "Yes, you shall have half my waltzes."

He still lingered. "And the other half?"

"The other half," said Daisy, "will be divided equally between Nick and my prospective son-in-law."

And at that Will laughed like a merry boy and moved away. "I know I can cut out Noel," he said as he went. "As for Nick, he is welcome to as many as he can get."