beyond him. "Coming here, this afternoon, I saw the
way. I made it beautiful. And then I saw you, and the mists came down
and I saw nothing else. But now I see everything by the light of you."
There was a pause. "I've never loved you more," she said. "And I want to
tell you something." She spoke on a rising note. "To me you are
everything that is good and true--and kind and loving. There is no limit
to your goodness. You never scold me, you don't complain, you still wait
in case I need you. I ought not to allow you to do that, but some day,
some day, perhaps I'll be as good as you are. I want you to remember
that you have been perfect to me." She said the word again and lingered
on it. "Perfect. If I have a son, I hope he'll be like you. I'll try to
make him."

"Helen--"

"Wait a minute. I want to say some more. I'm not going back because I am
afraid of breaking rules. I don't know anything about them, but I know
about myself, and I'm going back because, for me, it's the only thing to
do; and you see," she looked imploringly at him, "George needs me now
more than he did before. He trusts to me."

"It is for you to choose, Beloved."

"Yes," she said. "There's nothing splendid about me. I'm just--tame. I
wish I were different, Zebedee."

"Then you are the only one who wishes it."

She laughed a little and stood close to him.

"Bless me before I go, for now I have to learn it all again."

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Helen had a greeting ready for each turn of the road, but George did not
appear. She looked for him at the side road to the farm, and she waited
there for a while. She had thought he would be on the watch for her, and
she had hoped for him. Since they had to meet, let it be soon: let her
heart learn to beat submissively again, and the mouth kissed by Zebedee
to take kisses from another. But he did not come, and later, when she
had helped Mildred Caniper to bed, Helen sat on the moor to waylay and
welcome him, and make amends for her unfaithfulness.

The night was beautiful; the light wind had dropped, the sky was set
with stars, and small, pale moths made clouds above the heather. When
she shook a tuft of it, there came forth a sweet, dry smell. She looked
in wonder on the beauty of the world. Here, on the moor, there were such
things to see and hear and smell that it would be strange if she could
not find peace. In the town, it would be harder: it would be harder for
Zebedee, though he had his work an