And now that this weary time is over I can look back upon it with some pride, if with little pleasure--save for the part you have played in my life, and--may I say it ?--saving the part I have played in yours." He put out his hand gently and tenderly touched hers, and there was something in the meeting of those two thin, yellow hands, stained with the same daily labour and not meeting for the first time thus, that sent a thrill to the two hearts and that might have brought a look of thoughtful interest into eyes dulled and wearied by the ordinary sights of this world.

Vjera did not resent the innocent caress, but the colour that came into her face was not of the same hue as that which had burned there when he had insisted upon carrying her basket.

This time the blush was not painful to see, but rather shed a faint light of beauty over the plain, pale features.

Poor Vjera was happy for a moment.
"I am very glad if I have been anything to you," she said.

"I would I might have been more." "More?
I do not see--you have been gentle, forbearing, respecting my misfortunes and trying to make others respect them.