n happiness I should find with you."

The words poured from his lips before he finished, and the trained
monotony of his voice had gone to the winds. His face was violently
flushed, his eyes flashing. "I dare!" he cried exultingly. "I dare! It
would be heaven of a sort to have broken through those awful barriers
even if you told me to go and never enter your presence again."

"I cannot do that! I cannot!" And then she flung her arms out from her
deep womanly figure with a gesture expressive as much of maternal
yearning as of youthful and irresistible passion. "I will stay with
you forever," she said.

CHAPTER XVII

Several hours later Miss Ogilvy, who was riding slowly along the road
after a call at Bath House, suddenly drew rein and stared at an
approaching picture. She had a pretty taste in art, had Miss Medora,
and had painted all her island friends. Never had she longed more than
at this moment for palette and brush. A tall supple figure was coming
down the white road between the palms and the cane fields, clad in
white, the bonnet hanging on the arm, the sun making a golden web on
the chestnut hair. Never had the Caribbean Sea looked as blue as this
girl's eyes. Even her cheeks were as pink as the flowers in her belt.
She seemed to float rather than walk, and about her head was a cloud
of blue butterflies. Miss Ogilvy had seen Anne striding many a
morning, and it was the ethereal gait that challenged her attention
as much as the beauty of the picture.

They were abreast in a moment, and although Miss Ogilvy prided herself
upon the correctness of her deportment, she cried out impulsively,
and with no formal greeting: "What, in heaven's name, dear Anne, has
happened? I never saw any one look so beautiful--so--happy!"

"I am going to marry Byam Warner," said Anne.

Miss Ogilvy turned pale. She had intended to scheme for this very
result, but confronted with the fact, her better nature prevailed, and
she faltered out,

"Oh--oh--it is too great a risk! No woman should go as far as
that. We are all willing to help him, but that you should be
sacrificed--you--you of all----"

"I am not sacrificing myself. Do you fancy I am so great a fool as
that? No--no--that is not the reason I shall marry him!"

"He certainly is a great poet and has improved vastly in appearance.
I never should have believed it to be possible." The inevitable was
working in Miss Ogilvy. "But Mrs. Nunn? All her friends? There will be