ought about. It hung on him like a weight. He did not ride at a
lover's pace; rather, cool and determined, with a spice of pride in
following his own judgment. But the old man's prophecy met an
answering fear in his own mind--it was dangerous to pluck roses from
some ruins.

His father's sweetness in the matter got hold of him, and he began to
appreciate, in a vague way, the yearning that old men have to witness
fulfilment on the part of the younger generation. Mere age, he saw,
reduces the complexity of desire, but renders it single and intense.
Whether his father was right or not in his gloomy analysis, he was
deeply convinced and foiled. His last method of success had turned out
illusive, yet he had not reproached, nor domineered, nor dictated, nor
appealed. He had expressed a little of his keen sorrow, but
insidiously this attitude had tainted the young man's ecstasy.

Would _she_ comprehend his father's nobility? He could hardly explain
the situation to her in all its bearings, even if she were fitted to
understand. And he felt that hers would be a woman's sympathy, so
ready, yet on the surface. It needed a man, with his less expressive
nature, to comprehend deep down the bearings of this case. However, if
she loved him--it was pleasant to feel that she _did_ love him--she
must plan with him to defeat the old man's prophecy. They would cut
loose from the conditions, come what might. He closed his mouth
firmly. Manlike he planned as if he knew all the elements of the
question.

His horse trotted up the little gravel way to the Four Corners.
Suddenly she appeared standing on the big grooved millstone which
served as a horse-block. Her white dress had an under bodice of pink,
that gave her more than ever the appearance of an opening water-lily.

"I have a new walk for you to-day."

Her greeting betrayed no surprise. She was evidently sure of the
outcome. As Thornton flung himself from his horse, he had a sensation
of yielding--to the pre-arranged.

"But you must be so hot," she added, taking in his solemn face. "Come
into the pantry while I make you a cocktail. Papa says I could get a
place as a bar-maid."

With a ripple of contented laughter she led the way to the little
pantry over the wine-cellar. It was stocked and arranged like a
miniature bar; a high side-board was carefully crowded with polished
cut-glass, and the little room exhaled aromatic odors from the various
wines and bitters. He sat down near t