d dreariness of winter melted
before the spring sun, and in Dannie's veins the warm blood swept up,
as the sap flooded the trees, and in spite of himself he grew gladder
and yet gladder.

He now knew how he had missed Mary. How he had loathed that empty,
silent cabin. How remorse and heart hunger had gnawed at his vitals,
and he decided that he would go on just as Mary had said, and let
things drift; and when she was ready to have the talk with him she had
mentioned, he would hear what she had to say. And as he thought over
these things, he caught himself watching for furrows that Jimmy was not
making on the other side of the field. He tried to talk to the robins
and blackbirds instead of Jimmy, but they were not such good company.
And when the day was over, he tried not to be glad that he was going to
the shining eyes of Mary Malone, a good supper, and a clean bed, and it
was not in the heart of man to do it.

The summer wore on, autumn came, and the year Tilly had spoken of was
over. Dannie went his way, doing the work of two men, thinking of
everything, planning for everything, and he was all the heart of Mary
Malone could desire, save her lover. By little Mary pieced it out.
Dannie never mentioned fishing; he had lost his love for the river. She
knew that he frequently took walks to Five Mile Hill. His devotion to
Jimmy's memory was unswerving. And at last it came to her, that in
death as in life, Jimmy Malone was separating them. She began to
realize that there might be things she did not know. What had Jimmy
told the priest? Why had Father Michael refused to confess Jimmy until
he sent Dannie to him? What had passed between them? If it was what she
had thought all year, why did it not free Dannie to her? If there was
something more, what was it?

Surely Dannie loved her. Much as he had cared for Jimmy, he had vowed
that everything was for her first. She was eager to be his wife, and
something bound him. One day, she decided to ask him. The next, she
shrank in burning confusion, for when Jimmy Malone had asked for her
love, she had admitted to him that she loved Dannie, and Jimmy had told
her that it was no use, Dannie did not care for girls, and that he had
said he wished she would not thrust herself upon him. On the strength
of that statement Mary married Jimmy inside five weeks, and spent years
in bitter repentance.

That was the thing which held her now. If Dannie knew what she did, and
did not care to mar