could not
face that."

"Couldn't you? Remember that everything you say is going to be used
against you."

"Would you be willing to go, Pete?"

"Only if you will go with me."

"Oh!" she clasped her hands to her breast, shrinking back to look at
him. So that was what he had meant, this stranger whom she had known for
such a short time. As she looked she half expected that he would smile,
and say it was all a joke; but his eyes were steadily and seriously
fixed on hers. It was very queer, she thought. Their meeting, their
first kiss, their engagement, had all seemed so inevitable, so natural,
there had not been a hint of doubt or decision about it; but now all of
a sudden she found herself faced by a situation in which it was
impossible to say yes or no.

"It would be wonderful, of course," she said, after a minute, but her
tone showed she was not considering it as a possibility.

Wayne's heart sank; he saw that he had thought it possible that he would
not allow her to go, but that he had never seriously faced the chance of
her refusing.

"Mathilde," he said, "it's far and sudden, and we shall be poor, and I
can't promise that I shall succeed more than other fellows; and yet
against all that--"

She looked at him.

"You don't think I care for those things? I don't care if you succeed or
fail, or live all your life in Siam."

"What is it, then?"

"Pete, it's my mother. She would never consent."

Wayne was aware of this, but, then, as he pointed out to Mathilde with
great care, Mrs. Farron could not bear for her daughter the pain of
separation.

"Separation!" cried the girl, "But you just said you would not go if
I did not."

"If you put your mother before me, mayn't I put my profession
before you?"

"My dear, don't speak in that tone."

"Why, Mathilde," he said, and he sprang up and stood looking down at her
from a little distance, "this is the real test. We have thought we loved
each other--"

"Thought!" she interrupted.

"But to get engaged with no immediate prospect of marriage, with all
our families and friends grouped about, that doesn't mean such a
lot, does it?"

"It does to me," she answered almost proudly.

"Now, one of us has to sacrifice something. I want to go on this
expedition. I want to succeed. That may be egotism or legitimate
ambition. I don't know, but I want to go. I think I mean to go. Ought
I to give it up because you are afraid of your mother?"

"It's love, not fear, Pe