said many
things that became common and unworthy when considered in the light of
her judgment. He recalled how impatient he had been when she was late
at dinner, and how cross he was throughout one whole day when she had
kept her room. He felt with a sudden shock of delightful fear that he
had grown to depend upon her, that she was the best companion he had
ever known; and he remembered moments when they had been alone together
at the table, or in some old palace, or during a long walk, when they
had seemed to have the whole world entirely to themselves, and how he
had consoled himself at such times with the thought that no matter how
long she might be Abbey's wife, there had been these moments in her
life which were his, with which Abbey had had nothing to do.

Carlton turned and looked at her with strange wide-open eyes, as though
he saw her for the first time. He felt so sure of himself and of his
love for her that the happiness of it made him tremble, and the thought
that if he spoke she might answer him in the old, friendly, mocking
tone of good-fellowship filled him with alarm. At that moment it
seemed to Carlton that the most natural thing in the world for them to
do would be to go back again together over the road they had come,
seeing everything in the new light of his love for her, and so travel
on and on for ever over the world, learning to love each other more and
more each succeeding day, and leaving the rest of the universe to move
along without them.

He leaned forward with his arm along the back of the bench, and bent
his face towards hers. Her hand lay at her side, and his own closed
over it, but the shock that the touch of her fingers gave him stopped
and confused the words upon his tongue. He looked strangely at her,
and could not find the speech he needed.

Miss Morris gave his hand a firm, friendly little pressure and drew her
own away, as if he had taken hers only in an exuberance of good feeling.

"You have been very nice to us," she said, with an effort to make her
tone sound kindly and approving. "And we--"

"You mustn't go; I can't let you go," said Carlton, hoarsely. There
was no mistaking his tone or his earnestness now. "IF you go," he went
on, breathlessly, "I must go with you."

The girl moved restlessly; she leaned forward, and drew in her breath
with a slight, nervous tremor. Then she turned and faced him, almost
as though she were afraid of him or of herself, and they sa