ittle by little, as the
sun fell lower, imperceptible clouds whitened the blue cambric of
the sky, distant copses were stained lilac. And Janet, as she gazed,
wondered at a world that held at once so much beauty, so much joy and
sorrow,--such strange sorrow as began to invade her now, not personal,
but cosmic. At times it seemed almost to suffocate her; she drew in
deep breaths of air: it was the essence of all things--of the man by her
side, of herself, of the beauty so poignantly revealed to her.

Gradually Ditmar became conscious of this detachment, this new evidence
of an extraordinary faculty of escaping him that seemed unimpaired.
Constantly he tried by leaning closer to her, by reaching out his hand,
to reassure himself that she was at least physically present. And though
she did not resent these tokens, submitting passively, he grew perplexed
and troubled; his optimistic atheism concerning things unseen was
actually shaken by the impression she conveyed of beholding realities
hidden from him. Shadows had begun to gather in the forest, filmy mists
to creep over the waters. He asked if she were cold, and she shook her
head and sighed as one coming out of a trance, smiling at him.

"It's been a wonderful day!" she said.

"The greatest ever!" he agreed. And his ardour, mounting again, swept
away the unwonted mood of tenderness and awe she had inspired in him,
made him bold to suggest the plan which had been the subject of an
ecstatic contemplation.

"I'll tell you what we'll do," he said, "we'll take a little run down to
Boston and have dinner together. We'll be there in an hour, and back by
ten o'clock."

"To Boston!" she repeated. "Now?"

"Why not?" he said, stopping the car. "Here's the road--it's a boulevard
all the way."

It was not so much the proposal as the passion in his voice, in his
touch, the passion to which she felt herself responding that filled her
with apprehension and dismay, and yet aroused her pride and anger.

"I told you I had to be home," she said.

"I'll have you home by ten o'clock; I promise. We're going to be
married, Janet," he whispered.

"Oh, if you meant to marry me you wouldn't ask me to do this!" she
cried. "I want to go back to Hampton. If you won't take me, I'll walk."

She had drawn away from him, and her hand was on the door. He seized her
arm.

"For God's sake, don't take it that way!" he cried, in genuine alarm.
"All I meant was--that we'd have a nice little dinn