f I couldn't tell you everything I feel I
should be most unhappy. You see, I want to be able to do that, to tell
you everything."

"Of course, of course," he said, not quite comprehending her, for his
thoughts were always more material. He was revelling in the beauty
of the girl before him, in her perfect outward self, in her unique
personality. The more subtle, the deeper part of her, the searching
soul never to be content with superficial reasons and the obvious cause,
these he did not know--was he ever to know? It was the law of her nature
that she was never to deceive herself, to pretend anything, nor to
forgive pretence. To see things, to look beyond the Hedge, that was to
be a passion with her; already it was nearly that.

"Of course," Philip continued, "you must tell me everything, and I'll
understand. And as for what we'll think of this in another year, why,
doesn't it hold to reason that we'll think it the best day of our
lives--as it is, Guida?" He smiled at her, and touched her shining
hair. "Evil can't come out of good, can it? And this is good, as good as
anything in the world can be.... There, look into my eyes that way--just
that way."

"Are you happy--very, very happy, Philip?" she asked, lingering on the
words.

"Perfectly happy, Guida," he answered; and in truth he seemed so, his
eyes were so bright, his face so eloquent, his bearing so buoyant.

"And you think we have done quite right, Philip?" she urged.

"Of course, of course we have. We are honourably disposing of our
own fates. We love each other, we are married as surely as others are
married. Where is the wrong? We have told no one, simply because for
a couple of months it is best not to do so. The parson wouldn't have
married us if there'd been anything wrong."

"Oh, it isn't what the clergyman might think that I mean; it's what we
ourselves think down, down deep in our hearts. If you, Philip--if you
say it is all right, I will believe that it is right, for you would
never want your wife to have one single wrong thing like a dark spot on
her life with you--would you? If it is all right to you, it must be all
right for me, don't you see?"

He did see that, and it made him grave for an instant, it made him not
quite so sure.

"If your mother were alive," he answered, "of course she should have
known; but it isn't necessary for your grandfather to know. He talks; he
couldn't keep it to himself even for a month. But we have been regularl