and she rose to her feet.

"Wait," she said, and she turned from him to wipe her eyes with her
handerchief. Then she faced him.

"When dad died, I learned everything. You made him swear never to
tell me and he kept his word until he was on his death-bed. YOU did
everything for me. It was YOUR money. YOU gave me back the old cabin in
the Cove. It was always you, you, YOU, and there was never anybody else
but you." She stopped for Hale's face was as though graven from stone.

"And you came back to tell me that?"

"Yes."

"You could have written that."

"Yes," she faltered, "but I had to tell you face to face."

"Is that all?"

Again the tears were in her eyes.

"No," she said tremulously.

"Then I'll say the rest for you. You wanted to come to tell me of the
shame you felt when you knew," she nodded violently--"but you could have
written that, too, and I could have written that you mustn't feel that
way--that" he spoke slowly--"you mustn't rob me of the dearest happiness
I ever knew in my whole life."

"I knew you would say that," she said like a submissive child. The
sternness left his face and he was smiling now.

"And you wanted to say that the only return you could make was to come
back and be my wife."

"Yes," she faltered again, "I did feel that--I did."

"You could have written that, too, but you thought you had to PROVE it
by coming back yourself."

This time she nodded no assent and her eyes were streaming. He turned
away--stretching out his arms to the woods.

"God! Not that--no--no!"

"Listen, Jack!" As suddenly his arms dropped. She had controlled her
tears but her lips were quivering.

"No, Jack, not that--thank God. I came because I wanted to come," she
said steadily. "I loved you when I went away. I've loved you every
minute since--" her arms were stealing about his neck, her face was
upturned to his and her eyes, moist with gladness, were looking into his
wondering eyes--"and I love you now--Jack."

"June!" The leaves about them caught his cry and quivered with the joy
of it, and above their heads the old Pine breathed its blessing with the
name--June--June--June.

XXXV

With a mystified smile but with no question, Hale silently handed his
penknife to June and when, smiling but without a word, she walked behind
the old Pine, he followed her. There he saw her reach up and dig the
point of the knife into the trunk, and when, as he wonderingly watched
her, she gave a sudden