for your faith and courage, and that no act or word of mine shall ever
cause you to regret the compact.'

Her tears had ceased to fall, and when she next looked at him her face
was grave, and looked in the moonlight as pale as snow.

'If I were alone,' she answered, 'you should have my answer now, but I
have others to consider.'

'Oh, who,' he cried, 'can come between us?'

'Let us go home,' she answered simply and bravely. 'I must have time
to think. Please say no more to me to-night.' She moved away, and Paul,
taking his place beside her, walked in silence 'There is no one,' she
said, when they had traversed a hundred yards or more, 'who has a right
to dictate what my life shall be; but I have never done anything without
my mother's knowledge and consent, and I never shall.'

Paul had passed from despair almost to certainty, but this chilled him
suddenly.

'Ah,' he said, with a gasping breath, 'is there any mother in the world
who would consent to such a scheme?'

'You must write to me,' she answered, 'such a letter as I can send to
her. I will write, too, and I will ask her not to answer until she has
seen us both.'

'That rings a death-knell,' said Paul 'I have no hope of consent in such
a case.'

'I can't tell,' she answered simply, 'but there is no other way.'

'And yet you love me, Madge?' said Paul. She made no answer, and he drew
nearer to her, and put an arm about her shoulder. 'You love me, little
Madge?' he urged her.

She gave a sigh of acquiescence, a half-breathed 'Yes.'

'And you could deny your own heart and mine? You could let me go away
alone, and live alone yourself, with an empty heartache?'

Her answer came, like an echo of a former tone, just the same
half-breathed token of assent. There was a quiet resolution in it, for
all it was so softly spoken, which bound him to silence for a time.

There was more strength of resolution, more power and purpose,
expressed thus simply than he had ever been conscious of himself, and he
recognised that fact quite clearly.

They walked from this time forth in silence, until at the outskirts of
the town they reached the small and retired hotel at which the girl had
taken lodgings, and there they parted formally enough.

'You will write?' she asked, holding out her hand to him in token of
dismissal.

'I will write,' he answered, taking her hand, and bowing over it.

There were some Sabbath loiterers in the street, and it was necessary
that