with the belief
that Arsdale had been mistaken in his statement. She was nothing but a
glad hearted companion in look and speech. They sat down a moment in
the orchard and he was very tender of her, very careful into what trend
he let their thoughts run. But soon he moved on again. He needed to
be active. It was the walk back through the fields to which he had
looked forward.

They brushed through the ankle-deep grass, pausing here and there to
admire a clump of trees, a striking sky line, or a pretty slope.

To Donaldson it did not seem possible that this could ever end, that
any act of nature could blot this from his mind as though it had never
been. It was unthinkable that through an eternity he should never know
again the meaning of blue sky, of blossoms, of such profligate pictures
as now met his eye at every step, but above all, that he should be
blind to the girl herself and all for which she stood. No matter how
long the journey he was about to take, no matter through what new
spheres, these things must remain if anything at all of him remained.
So his one thought was to fill himself as full of this day as possible,
to crowd into his flagging brain the many pictures of her and this
setting which so harmonized with her. The deeper joys of love he might
not know, save as his silent heart conjured them, but all that he could
see with his eyes should be his. He would fill his soul so full of
light that the unknown trail would be less dark to him. He would carry
with him for torches the sun and her bright eyes.

"Let's go back as the crow flies," he suggested. "'Cross country--over
hill and dale. We must n't turn out for anything," he explained, "we
must go crashing through things--trampling them down."

"My," she cried, mocking his fierceness--little realizing the emotion
to which they gave vent, "my, things had better look out!"

He paused, caught his breath, and turned to her, an almost terrified
smile about his tense mouth.

"Oh, little comrade, you 'd best let me be serious."

"No, no. Not to-day. Let us be as glad as we can,--let us celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" he demanded, lest she might think that he had
confessed his thoughts to her.

"Spring," she answered, with a laugh that came from deep within her big
happy heart. "Just spring."

"Then we must n't trample down anything?" he queried.

"Nothing that we can help. But we can take the straight course just
the same. We 'll turn