re. 'Thy God shall be my God.'
He had heard it all through the night. He had not yet broken the tender
charm sufficiently to think that he must tell her the sacrifice she would
have to make. When partly he did, the first excuse he clutched at was,
that he had not even kissed her on the forehead. Surely he had been
splendidly chivalrous? Just as surely he would have brought on himself
the scorn of the chivalrous or of the commonly balanced if he had been
otherwise. The grandeur of this or of any of his proceedings, then, was
forfeited, as it must needs be when we are in the false position: we can
have no glory though martyred. The youth felt it, even to the seeing of
why it was; and he resolved, in justice to the dear girl, that he would
break loose from his fetters, as we call our weakness. Behold, Rose met
him descending the stairs, and, taking his hand, sang, unabashed, by the
tell-tale colour coming over her face, a stave of a little Portuguese air
that they had both been fond of in Portugal; and he, listening to it, and
looking in her eyes, saw that his feelings in--the old time had been
hers. Instantly the old time gave him its breath, the present drew back.

Rose, now that she had given her heart out, had no idea of concealment.
She would have denied nothing to her aunts: she was ready to confide it
to her mother. Was she not proud of the man she loved? When Evan's hand
touched hers she retained it, and smiled up at him frankly, as it were to
make him glad in her gladness. If before others his eyes brought the
blood to her cheeks, she would perhaps drop her eye-lids an instant, and
then glance quickly level again to reassure him. And who would have
thought that this boisterous, boyish creature had such depths of eye!
Cold, did they call her? Let others think her cold. The tender knowledge
of her--the throbbing secret they held in common sang at his heart. Rose
made no confidante, but she attempted no mystery. Evan should have risen
to the height of the noble girl. But the dearer and sweeter her bearing
became, the more conscious he was of the dead weight he was dragging: in
truth her behaviour stamped his false position to hard print the more he
admired her for it, and he had shrinkings from the feminine part it
imposed on him to play.

CHAPTER XXV

IN WHICH THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR

An Irish retriever-pup of the Shannon breed, Pat by name, was undergoing
tuition on the sward close by the kennels,