d, no. Not for a minute."

He rose too, very pale, the piece of sage in his hand shaking. They
looked at each other, the yellow light clear on both faces. Hers was
hard and combative, as if his suggestion had outraged her and she was
ready to fight it. Its expression sent a shaft of terror to his soul,
for with all his unselfishness he was selfish in his man's longing for
her, hungered for her till his hunger had made him blind. Now in a
flash of clairvoyance he saw truly, and feeling the joy of life
slipping from him, faltered:

"Have I made a mistake? Don't you care?"

It was her opportunity, she was master of her fate. But her promise
was still a thing that held, the moment had not come when she saw
nothing but her own desire, and to gain it would have sacrificed all
that stood between. His stricken look, his expression of nerving
himself for a blow, pierced her, and her words rushed out in a burst of
contrition.

"Of course, of course, I do. Don't doubt me. Don't. But-- Oh,
David, don't torment me. Don't ask anything like that now. I can't, I
can't. I'm not ready--not yet."

Her voice broke and she put her hand to her mouth to hide its
trembling. Over it, her eyes, suddenly brimming with tears, looked
imploringly into his.

It was a heart-tearing sight to the lover. He forgot himself and,
without knowing what he did, opened his arms to inclose her in an
embrace of pity and remorse.

"Oh, dearest, I'll never ask it till you're willing to come to me," he
cried, and saw her back away, with upheld shoulders raised in defense
against his hands.

"I won't touch you," he said, quickly dropping his arms. "Don't draw
back from me. If you don't want it I'll never lay a finger on you."

The rigidity of her attitude relaxed. She turned away her head and
wiped her tears on the end of the kerchief knotted round her neck. He
stood watching her, struggling with passion and foreboding, reassured
and yet with the memory of the seeing moment, chill at his heart.

Presently she shot a timid glance at him, and met his eyes resting
questioningly upon her. Her face was tear stained, a slight,
frightened smile on the lips.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Susan, do you truly care for me?"

"Yes," she said, looking down. "Yes--but--let me wait a little while
longer."

"As long as you like. I'll never ask you to marry me till you say
you're willing."

She held out her hand shyly, as if fearing a rep