al sin. I am not wise,
but, Dic, something tells me that certain things cannot occupy a middle
ground. They must be holy and sacred, or they are sinful, and I--I did
not want it to--to happen then, because--because--" there she stopped
speaking. She had unintentionally used the word "then," with slight
emphasis; but slight as it was, it sent Dic's soul soaring heavenward,
buoyant with ecstasy.

"Why, Rita, why did you not want it to happen--" he feared to say
"then," and it would seem from the new position of his arm, he also
feared she might fall backward off the log.

"Because--because," came in soft whispers. The beautiful head was
drooped, and the face was hidden from even the birds and the moon, while
Dic's disengaged hand, out of an abundance of caution lest she might
fall, clasped hers.

"Because--why, Rita?" he pleaded.

Softly came the response, "Because I wanted to be alone with--with--you
when it--it happened." It happened before she had finished her sentence,
but when it was finished the head lay upon his shoulder, and the birds,
should they awaken, or the moon, or any one else, might see for aught
she cared. It was holy and sacred now, and she felt no shame: she was
proud. The transfer of herself had been made. She belonged to him, and
he, of course, must do with his own property as he saw fit. It was no
longer any affair of hers.

The victory of complete surrender is sometimes all-conquering; at any
rate, Dic was subjugated for life. His situation was one that would be
hard to improve upon in the way of mere earthly bliss. Heaven may
furnish something better, and if it does, the wicked certainly have no
conception of what they are going to miss. Tom, for example, would never
have put buttons in the offering. Doug would not gamble and drink. Poor,
painted Nanon would starve rather than sin. Old man Jones, in the amen
corner, would not swindle his neighbor; nor would Wetmore, the Baptist,
practise the holy calling of shepherd, having in his breast the heart of
a wolf. We all, saving a woman here and there, have our sins, little and
great, and many times in the day we put in jeopardy that future bliss.
But I console myself with the hope that there is as much forgiveness in
heaven as there is sin on earth, save for the hypocrite. There may be
forgiveness even for him, but I trust not.

I have done this bit of philosophizing that I might give Dic and Rita a
moment to themselves on the sycamore divan. You