."

Laddie frisked about them, and barked back at the echo of his own
voice, that resounded through the clear air from the hollow places in
the hills. They had not far to go now. The light of the kitchen window
at Shoulthwaite would be seen from the turn of the road. Only through
yonder belt of trees that overhung the "lonnin," and they would be in
the court of Angus Ray's homestead.

"Ralph," said Rotha--she had walked in silence for some little
time--"all the sorrow of my life seems gone. You have driven it all
away." Her tremulous voice belied the light laugh that followed.

He looked down at her tear-dimmed eyes. Was her great sorrow indeed
gone? Had he driven it away from her? If so, was it not all, and more,
being gathered up into his own heart instead? Was it not so?

"You have borne it bravely, Rotha--very bravely," he answered. "Do you
think, now, that I could have borne it as you have done?"

There was a tremor in his tone and a tenderness of expression in his
face that Rotha had never before seen there.

"Bear it as I have done?" she repeated. "There is nothing you could
not bear." And her radiant face was lit up in that white moonlight
with a perfect sunshine of beauty.

"I don't know, Rotha, my girl," he answered falteringly; "I don't
know--yet." The last words were spoken with his head dropped on to his
breast.

Rotha stepped in front of him, and, putting her hand on his shoulder,
stopped him and looked searchingly in his face.

"What is this sadness, Ralph? Is there something you have not told
me--something behind, which, when it comes, will take the joy out of
this glad news you give me?"

"I could not be so cruel as that, Rotha; do you think I could?"

A smile was playing upon his features as he smoothed her hair over her
forehead and drew forward the loose hood that had fallen from it.

"And there is nothing to come after--nothing?"

"Nothing that need mar your happiness, my girl, or disturb your love.
You love your father, do you not?"

"Better than all the world!" Rotha answered impulsively. "Poor
father!"

"Better than all the world," echoed Ralph vacantly, and with something
like a sigh. Her impetuous words seemed to touch him deeply, and he
repeated them once more, but they died away on his lips. "Better than
all the--" Then they walked on.

They had almost reached the belt of trees that overhung the road.

"Ralph," said Rotha, pausing, "may I--kiss you?"

He stooped and kis