e she reached the farm Maxwell had asked Anne to marry him. There
had been a cool evening when the scent of lilacs had washed in great
waves through the open windows. Amy had gone to bed and he and Anne had
dined alone with the flare of candles between them, and the rest of the
room in pleasant shadow. And then their coffee had been served, and Aunt
Mittie, his housekeeper, had asked if there was anything else, and had
withdrawn, and he had risen and had walked round to Anne's place and had
laid his hands on her shoulders.

"Little Anne," he had said, "I should like to see you here always."

"Here?"

"As my wife."

"Oh!"

She had had a rapturous week at the farm. She had never known anything
like it. Aunt Elizabeth, of the Eastern Shore, lived in a sleepy town,
and Anne's other brief vacations had been spent in more or less
fashionable resorts. But here was a paradise of plenty; the big wide
house, the spreading barns, the opulent garden, the rolling fields, the
enchanting creatures who were sheltered by the barns and fed by the
fields, and who in return gave payment of yellow cream and warm white
eggs, and who lowed at night and cackled in the morning, and whose days
were measured by the rising and the setting of the sun.

She loved it all--the purring pussies, the companionable pups, the
steady, faithful older dogs, the lambs in the pasture, the good things
to eat.

She was glowing with gratitude, and Maxwell was asking insistently,
"Won't you, Anne?"

She had never been so happy, and he was the source of her happiness.
Against this background of vivid life the thought of Murray was a pale
memory.

So her wistful eyes met Maxwell's. "It would be lovely--to live
here--always."

Later, when she had started up-stairs with her candle, he had kissed
her, leaning over the rail to watch her as she went up, and Anne had
gone to sleep tremulous with the thought that her future would lie here
in this great house with this fine and kindly man.

Winifred, coming down at last, found that she had come too late. Maxwell
told her as they motored up from the station.

"Wish me happiness, Win. I am going to marry little Anne."

It did not enter his head for a moment that the woman by his side loved
him. He had thought that if she ever married him it would be a sort of
concession on her part, a sacrifice to her interest in his future. He
had a feeling that she would be glad if such a sacrifice were not
demanded.

But