“Well, if you must know, I—I _hoped_ from the first time I saw you.”
“You hoped! Good heavens, dear! Why didn’t you let me know. I—I didn’t
think I had a chance.”
She snuggled more closely against me.
“A girl can’t let a man know she loves him until she knows that he
loves her, dear. You seemed so far away, and so—so disinterested. I
was afraid you would never let me know that—that you loved me.”
“But I thought it was George, Betty. How could I let you know? You
see, it’s the first time I’ve done this sort of thing.”
“You dear, blind darling!”
“I know it now. I see. But even now I can’t see why—I can hardly
believe——”
“Tut, tut!” She pinched my arm. “Can he believe now? Isn’t it real, to
him?”
“I’ve acted like a brute since the night we left the cave, Betty.”
“So you have. Deep, ’bysmal brute.”
“I was angry because you said you wouldn’t have George risking his
life for you. I was jealous.”
“Oh, darling! Were you really? I gloat!” She rocked in my arms, then
grew suddenly serious. “How could I have him risking his life for me,
Gardy, dear? I had nothing to give him. I knew then it was you, you;
only you. I had no right to let George make any sacrifice for me.
You—you were my man. Do you understand?”
“Yes, dear.”
“And when I called to poor Captain Brack that night, Gardy, I was
calling to you with my heart. Oh! I was calling so to you. Do you
understand that, too, dear?”
“Yes; yes!”
“And—and you heard, too, didn’t you, Gardy? You heard me, because you
wanted to hear it, didn’t you? And when we came here this morning, and
you were so far-awayish I was afraid you hadn’t heard at all. Oh,
Gardy!” She looked up with eyes wet from happiness too great to be
suppressed. “Isn’t life good to us? Isn’t it glorious to be alive!”
“And think of it!” I whispered. “We’re just beginning a new life—just
beginning to live.”
“Yes,” she whispered, stroking my hand. “We’ve explored the hidden
country.” Then she quoted Brack: “‘There is hidden country in all of
us; and until we’ve explored it we don’t know what it is to live.’”
A silence fell upon us as deep, as primitive as the aged rocks about
us, and ere we spoke again the _Wanderer’s_ siren had sent its
strident notes down the fiord warning us that it was time for
luncheon.
“I suppose we must really go now,” sighed Betty as we rose. “Ah,
little cave, little cave!” she murmured, holding her arms out to it.
“You are a good little cave and you helped make one little girl very,
very happy.”
“And one man, too,” said I. “We’ll never forget this cave, dear, even
though the time we spent in it was trying enough.”
“No, we’ll never forget it.” Her grave, gray eyes were looking far out
over the fiord. “It has become a part of our lives. It has all become
a part of our lives—our new lives, Gardy, dear. We’ll not forget any
of it. Oh, dearest! Maybe sometime we can come back here, and camp
here, and remember all these wonderful days. You’ll never forget them,
and what they’ve meant to us, will you, dear?”
“We will neither of us forget as long as we live!”
“Yes. I feel that, too. We’ll look back, and we’ll never forget any of
it, not even Captain Brack.”
“Poor Brack!”
She leaned against me, as if seeking shelter from the sad thoughts of
the moment.
“Yes, we’ll even remember him with gladness, Gardy. Won’t we?”
“Yes. Of course. For it was Brack who led us into the hidden country.”
“Yes; yes.” She lifted her eyes slowly to mine. “He led us into the
hidden country; but, oh, Gardy, my heart! What was it that led us
out!”
And I answered with my lips, but not with words.
[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the December, 1916
issue of Adventure magazine.]