wered
honestly: "I was not in my room when I heard you." She paused, and when
he only looked at her expectantly, but did not speak, continued, in a
hesitating manner quite unlike her matter-of-fact self: "When I could
not sleep, and felt so as though there were somebody or something in the
house that had no business here, I became afraid, and opened my door so
I would not feel so much alone; and then I saw the light under the door
of your room, and,--" she hesitated, but finished with a little air of
defiance,--"and I went and listened outside your door to see if you were
up."

"Yes?" said Brian Kent, gently.

"And when I heard you walking up and down, I wanted to call to you; but
I thought I better not. It made me feel better, though, just to know
that you were there; and so, pretty soon, I went back to my room again."

"And then?" said Brian.

"And then," confessed Betty Jo, "whatever it was that was keeping me
awake came back, and went on keeping me awake until I was simply forced
to go to you for help again."

Poor Betty Jo! She knew very well that she ought not to be saying those
things to the man who, while he listened, could not hide the love that
shone in his eyes.

And Brian Kent, as he thought of this woman, whom he loved with all the
strength of his best self, creeping to the door of his room for comfort
in the lonely night, scarcely dared trust himself to speak. At last,
when their silence was becoming unbearable, he said, gently: "You poor
child! Why didn't you call to me?"

And Betty Jo, hearing in his voice that which told her how near he was
to the surrender that would bring disaster to them both, was aroused to
the defense. The gray eyes never wavered as she answered, bravely: "I
was afraid of that, too."

And so Betty Jo confessed her love that answered so to his need; but,
in her very confession, saved their love from themselves. If she had
lowered her eyes--Brian Kent, in reverent acknowledgment, bowed his
head before her. Then, rising, he walked to the window, where he stood
for some time looking out, but seeing nothing.

"It was that horrid man coming yesterday that has so upset us," said
Betty Jo, at last. "We were getting on so beautifully, too. I wish he
had gone somewhere else for his vegetables and eggs and things!"

Brian was able to smile at this as he turned to face her again, and they
both knew that,--for that time, at least,--the danger-point was safely
past.

"I wish so, t