Claude's ability to withstand authority. She had no great confidence
in anything, not even in his love, or in her own. The love was true
enough; it was ardently, desperately true; but would it bear the strain
that could so easily be put upon it? She felt herself swept by an
immense longing to be sure.

She had so many subjects to think of and to dread that she forgot to be
frightened as she sped up the bluff. It was only on reaching the summit
and discovering that Claude wasn't there that she was seized by fear.
There was a bench beside her--a round bench circling the trunk of an
oak-tree--and she sank upon it.

* * * * *

The crunching of footsteps told her some one was coming up the slope. In
all probability it was Claude; but it might be a stranger, or even an
animal. The crunching continued, measured, slow. She would have fled if
there had been any way of fleeing without encountering the object of her
alarm. The regular beat of the footsteps growing heavier and nearer
through the darkness rendered her almost hysterical. When at last
Claude's figure emerged into the moonlight, his erect slenderness
defined against the sky, she threw herself, sobbing, into his arms.

It was not the least of Claude's attractions that he was so tender with
women swept by crises of emotion. Where Thor would have stood helpless,
or prescribed a mild sedative, Claude pressed the agitated creature to
his breast and let her weep.

When her sobs had subsided to a convulsive clinging to him without
tears, he explained his delay in arriving by his meeting with Uncle Sim.
They were seated on the bench by this time, his arms about her, her face
close to his.

"Awful nuisance, he is. Regular Paul Pry. Can't keep anything from him.
Scours the country night and day like the Headless Horseman of Sleepy
Hollow. Never know when you'll meet him."

"I met him, too," Rosie said, getting some control of her voice.

"The deuce you did! Did he speak to you? Did he say anything about me?"

"He said he'd seen you."

"Is that all?"

She weighed the possible disadvantages of saying too much, coming to the
conclusion that she had better tell him more. "No, it isn't quite all.
He seemed to--warn me against you."

"Oh, the devil!" In his start he loosened his embrace, but grasped her
to him again. "What's he up to now?"

"Do you think he's up to anything?"

"What else did he say? Tell me all you can think of."

She