ad she cared for
another, had she even told him that she could not care for him, he would
have taken his dismissal as irrevocable and gone to try and drag out the
remainder of his life elsewhere as best he could. But he was maddened
to think that the major difficulty--the overwhelming, insuperable
difficulty--of his suit had been overcome. She loved him! Miraculous
and incredible though it might seem--though it was--it was the amazing
truth. And that being so, it was beyond bearing that a mere truckling to
convention should be allowed to step in and snatch away the ecstasy of
happiness that was within his grasp. And worse still, this trucking to
convention was to save him! What, he asked himself, did it matter about
him? Even if the worst happened and she suffered shame through her
father, wasn't all he wanted to be allowed to share it with her? And if
narrow, stupid fools did talk, what matter? They could do without their
companionship.

Fits of wild rage alternated with periods of cold and numbing despair,
but as day succeeded day the desire to be near her grew until it could
no longer be denied. He dared not again attempt to force himself into
her presence, lest she should be angry and shatter irrevocably the hope
to which he still clung with desperation. But he might without fear of
disaster be nearer to her for a time. He hired a bicycle, and after dark
had fallen that evening he rode out to the lane, and leaving his machine
on the road, walked to the edge of the clearing. It was a perfect night,
calm and silent, though with a slight touch of chill in the air. A
crescent moon shone soft and silvery, lighting up pallidly the open
space, gleaming on the white wood of the freshly cut stumps, and
throwing black shadows from the ghostly looking buildings. It was close
on midnight, and Merriman looked eagerly across the clearing to the
manager's house. He was not disappointed. There, in the window that he
knew belonged to her room, shone a light.

He slowly approached, keeping on the fringe of the clearing and beneath
the shadow of the trees. Some shrubs had taken root on the open ground,
and behind a clump of these, not far from the door, he lay down, filled
his pipe, and gave himself up to his dreams. The light still showed in
the window, but even as he looked it went out, leaving the front of the
house dark and, as it seemed to him, unfriendly and forbidding.
"Perhaps she'll look out before going to bed," he thought,