she passed on, across the lawn, she saw his figure
disappearing among the trees. "I don't think it very civil for a
young lady's young man to vanish in that way," said Miss Hall. But
Mary boldly and quickly followed him, without another word.

"Mary," he said, turning round upon her as soon as they were both out
of sight among the trees. "Mary, you have come at last."

"Yes; I have come."

"And yet, when I first showed myself at your house, you would hardly
receive me." But this he said holding her by the hand, and looking
into her face with his brightest smile. "I had postponed my coming
almost too late."

"Yes, indeed. Was it my fault?"

"No;--nor mine. When I was told that I was doing no good about the
house, and reminded that I was penniless, what could I do but go
away?"

"But why go so far?"

"I had to go where money could be earned. Considering all things, I
think I was quick enough. Where else could I have found diamonds but
at the diamond-fields? And I have been perhaps the luckiest fellow
that has gone and returned."

"So nearly too late!"

"But not too late."

"But you were too late,--only for the inexpressible goodness of
another. Have you thought what I owe--what you and I owe--to Mr
Whittlestaff?"

"My darling!"

"But I am his darling. Only it sounds so conceited in any girl to say
so. Why should he care so much about me?--or why should you, for the
matter of that?"

"Mary, Mary, come to me now." And he held out both his hands. She
looked round, fearing intrusive eyes, but seeing none, she allowed
him to embrace her. "My own,--at last my own. How well you understood
me in those old days. And yet it was all without a word,--almost
without a sign." She bowed her head before she had escaped from his
arms. "Now I am a happy man."

"It is he that has done it for you."

"Am I not thankful?"

"How can I be thankful as I ought? Think of the gratitude that I
owe him,--think of all the love! What man has loved as he has done?
Who has brought himself so to abandon to another the reward he had
thought it worth his while to wish for? You must not count the value
of the thing."

"But I do."

"But the price he had set upon it! I was to be the comfort of his
life to come. And it would have been so, had he not seen and had he
not believed. Because another has loved, he has given up that which
he has loved himself."

"It was not for my sake."

"But it was for mine. You had come first, and had