"No, no, I wasn"t hurt at all--Mary. It was father who came nearer it.
He saved me."
"Yes, I saw; but you had fallen. I couldn"t get through the crowd until you had gone. And I wanted to KNOW."
"Mary--would you--have minded?" he said.
There was a long interval before she answered.
"Yes."
"Then why--"
"Yes, Bibbs?"
"I don"t know what to say," he cried. "It"s so wonderful to hear your voice again--I"m shaking, Mary--I--I don"t know--I don"t know anything except that I AM talking to you! It IS you--Mary?"
"Yes, Bibbs!"
"Mary--I"ve seen you from my window at home--only five times since I--since then. You looked--oh, how can I tell you? It was like a man chained in a cave catching a glimpse of the blue sky, Mary. Mary, won"t you--let me see you again--near? I think I could make you really forgive me--you"d have to--"
"I DID--then."
"No--not really--or you wouldn"t have said you couldn"t see me any more."
"That wasn"t the reason." The voice was very low.
"Mary," he said, even more tremulously than before, "I can"t--you COULDN"T mean it was because--you can"t mean it was because you--care?"
There was no answer.
"Mary?" he called, huskily. "If you mean THAT--you"d let me see you--wouldn"t you?"
And now the voice was so low he could not be sure it spoke at all, but if it did, the words were, "Yes, Bibbs--dear."
But the voice was not in the instrument--it was so gentle and so light, so almost nothing, it seemed to be made of air--and it came from the air.
Slowly and incredulously he turned--and glory fell upon his shining eyes. The door of his father"s room had opened.
Mary stood upon the threshold.
THE END