"I want you to accept this offer. Don't interrupt. I know that it will
take you back into the life you gave up for me. I don't care. I've
been thinking about that lately, and I reckon I've been a selfish
beast. I made you give up the things you liked, and you might have
become a great man but for me. Enoch, I'm all right now. I'll swear
it. There's never no more fear about me. I'll live in London with
you, or here, and you can come down when you can spare a bit of time.
I ain't going to be a bit jealous of anything or anybody. I ain't,
indeed. And, Enoch, I want to be a better wife to you," she added,
with a little tearful break in her tone, "if I can. I ain't the wife
you ought to have married, dear. I know that. I ought to have been
clever, and known how to dress and talk nicely, and all sorts of
things. I'm going to try and improve. It's too late for you to choose
again, Enoch, but you've been real good to me, and I ain't going to
give you any more trouble."
A transformation. Something had found its way into Milly's heart and
stirred up all the good that was there into vigorous life. In her
eager, tear-dimmed eyes he saw something shining which altered forever
his point of view. He was bewildered. What was this thing which he had
had in his mind! Yesterday seemed far away; the thought of it made him
shudder. But what had come to Milly? He reached out his hand. Their
eyes met, and he understood. A new sense of humanity brought man and
woman into a wonderful kinship. He opened his arms, and Milly crept
into them with a little sob of content.
* * *