By her hands which he still held he drew her nearer yet to himself.
"Sweetheart," he said gravely, "cannot you trust me a little? If I could tell you all that passed to-day, you would understand. But trust me that I am not heartless. And what of Julian Felsenburgh?"
For a moment he saw hesitation in her eyes; her loyalty to him and her loathing of all that had happened strove within her. Then once again loyalty prevailed, the name of Felsenburgh weighed down the balance, and trust came back with a flood of tears.
"Oh, Oliver," she said, "I know I trust you. But I am so weak, and all is so terrible. And He so strong and merciful. And will He be with us to-morrow?"
It struck midnight from the clock-tower a mile away as they yet sat and talked. She was still tremulous from the struggle; but she looked at him smiling, still holding his hands. He saw that the reaction was upon her in full force at last.
"The New Year, my husband," she said, and rose as she said it, drawing him after her.
"I wish you a happy New Year," she said. "Oh help me, Oliver."
She kissed him, and drew back, still holding his hands, looking at him with bright tearful eyes.
"Oliver," she cried again, "I must tell you this.... Do you know what I thought before you came?"
He shook his head, staring at her greedily. How sweet she was! He felt her grip tighten on his hands.
"I thought I could not bear it," she whispered—"that I must end it all—ah! you know what I mean."
