him swift means
to regain it. He did not, however, think of himself while his arms were
round her; he thought of her and her only, while they remained together.

"'Sorry'?" he said. "Can you think I'm sorry? I'm only sorry that I
didn't do something sooner and marry you before this happened, Sabina.
Good Lord--it throws a lot of light. I swear it does. I'm glad--I'm
honestly glad--and you must be glad and proud and happy and all the
rest of it. We'll be married in a month. And you must tell your mother
we're engaged to-day; and I'll tell my people. Don't you worry. Damn me,
I've been worrying you a lot lately; but it was only because I couldn't
see straight. Now I do and I'll soon atone."

She wept with thankful heart and begged him to turn with her and tell
Mrs. Dinnett himself. But that he would not do.

"It will save time if I go on to Bridport and let Aunt Jenny hear about
it. Of course the youngster is our affair and nobody need know about
that. But we must be married in a jiffey and--you must give notice at
the mill to-day. Go back now and tell Best."

"How wonderful you are!" she said. "And yet I feared you might be savage
about it."

"More shame to me that you should have feared it," he answered; "for
that means that I haven't been sporting. But you shall never be
frightened of me again, Sabina. To see you frightened hurts me like
hell. If ever you are again, it will be your fault, not mine."

She left him very happy and a great cloud seemed to fall off her life as
she returned to the village. She blamed herself for ever doubting him.
Her love rose from its smothered fires. She soared to great heights and
dreamed of doing mighty things for Raymond. Straight home to her mother
she went and told Mrs. Dinnett of her engagement and swiftly approaching
marriage. The light had broken on her darkness at last and she welcomed
the child as a blessed forerunner of good. The coming life had already
made her love it.

Meantime Raymond preserved his cheerful spirit for a season. But
existence never looked the same out of Sabina's presence and before he
had reached Bridport, his mood changed. He recognised very acutely his
duty and not a thought stirred in him to escape it; but what for a
little while had appeared more than duty and promised to end mean doubts
and fears for ever, began now to present itself under other aspects.
The joy of a child and a wife and a home faded. For what sort of a home
could he establish?