"Maude!" he said in a low voice.
She did not move for a moment, but looked straight before her
wistfully, as if she could not trust her ears; then she turned and came
towards him, with something like fear on her face. The fear broke up,
as it were, and, stretching out her arms, she spoke his name--the
accents of love fighting with those of doubt and a joy that dreaded its
own greatness.
"Stafford! It is you!"
She pressed her hands to her heart for a moment, then she fell into his
arm, half fainting.