ry you on Thursday."

"What?"

"I mean it. I have made up my mind."

"But I've set my mind on it, darling."

"I'm doing it for your good."

He argued, threatened, cajoled, pleaded for the best part of two hours,
but nothing would shake her resolution. To all of his arguments, she
would reply in a tone admitting no doubt of the unalterable nature of
her determination:

"I'm doing it for your good, beloved."

Shadows grew apace; light clouds laced the west; a hush was in the air,
as if trees, bushes, and flowers were listening intently for a message
which had evaded them all the day.

Perigal's distress wrung Mavis' heart.

"I can bear it no longer," she presently cried.

"Bear what, sweetheart?"

"Your pain. My heart isn't made of stone. I almost wish it were.
Listen. You want me?"

"What a question!"

"Then you shall have me."

He looked at her quickly. She went on:

"We will not get married. But I give you myself."

"Mavis!"

"Yes; I give you myself."

Perigal was silent for some minutes; he was, evidently, in deep
thought. When he spoke, it was to say with deliberation:

"No, no, little Mavis. I may be bad; but I'm not up to that form--not
yet."

"I love you all the more for saying that," she murmured.

"Since I can't move you, I'll go to Wales tomorrow," he said.

"Then that means--"

"Wait, wait, little Mavis; wait and hope."

"I shall never love anyone else."

"Not even Windebank?"

She cried out in agony of spirit.

"Forgive me, darling," he said. "I will keep faithful too."

They walked for some moments in silence.

"Do one thing for me," pleaded Mavis.

"And that?"

"We are near my nook--at least I call it that. Let us sit there for
just three minutes and think Thursday was--was going to be our--" She
could not trust her voice to complete the sentence.

"If you wish it."

"Only--"

"Only what?"

"Promise--promise you won't kiss me."

"But--"

"I'm not myself. Promise."

He promised. They repaired to Mavis' nook, where they sat in silence,
while night enwrapped them in gloom. Instinctively, their hands
clasped. Mavis had realised that she was with her lover perhaps for the
last time. She wished to snatch a moment of counterfeit joy by
believing that the immense happiness which had been hers was to
continue indefinitely. But her imaginative effort was a dismal failure.
Her mind was a blank with the promise of unending pain in the
background.

Perigal felt t