"I am beginning to see now. It all happened so suddenly
that I could not think. But if you love me you must not go on. It is
impossible. I would rather suffer my own fate than have you do that.
When we reach the other shore you must leave me."

She was struggling to keep back her emotion, fighting to hold it within
her own breast.

"You must go back," she repeated, staring into his set face. "If you
don't, you will be hurt terribly, terribly!"

And then, suddenly, she slipped lower among the cushions he had placed
for her, and buried her face in one of them with a moaning grief that
cut to his soul. She was sobbing now, like a child. In this moment
Philip forgot all restraint. He leaned forward and put a hand on her
shining head, and bent his face close down to hers. His free hand
touched one of her hands, and he held it tightly.

"Listen, my Josephine," he whispered. "I am not going to turn back, I
am going on with you. That is our pact. At the end I know what to
expect. You have told me; and I, too, believe. But whatever happens, in
spite of all that may happen, I will still have received more than all
else in the world could give me. For I will have known you, and you
will be my salvation. I am going on."

For an instant he felt the fluttering pressure of her fingers on his.
It was an answer a thousand times more precious to him than words, and
he knew that he had won. Still lower he bent his head, until for an
instant his lips touched the soft, living warmth of her hair. And then
he leaned back, freeing her hand, and into his face had leaped soul and
life and fighting strength; and under his breath he gave new thanks to
God, and to the sun, and the blue sky above, while from behind them
came skimming over the water the slim birchbark canoe of Jean Jacques
Croisset.

CHAPTER SIX

At the touch of Weyman's lips to her hair Josephine lay very still, and
Philip wondered if she had felt that swift, stolen caress. Almost he
hoped that she had. The silken tress where for an instant his lips had
rested seemed to him now like some precious communion cup in whose
sacredness he had pledged himself. Yet had he believed that she was
conscious of his act he would have begged her forgiveness. He waited,
breathing softly, putting greater sweep into his paddle to keep Jean
well behind them.

Slowly the tremulous unrest of Josephine's shoulders ceased. She raised
her head and looked at him, her lovely face damp with