ittle while it will be three, heigho, so wags the
world--your arm pray, your arm."

"But my lady pray consider--your health--your----"

"Fie sir and fiddlededee!"

"But the--the dew, 'tis very----"

"Excellent for the complexion!" and she trilled the line of a song:

'O 'tis dabbling in the dew that makes the milkmaids fair.'

"But 'tis so--unseasonable! So altogether--er--irregular, as
'twere----"

"Egad sir and you're i' the right on't!" she mocked. "'Tis
unseasonable, unreasonable, unwomanly, unvirginal and altogether
unthinkable as 'twere and so forth d'ye see! Major d'Arcy is probably
pining for his downy bed. Major d'Arcy must continue to pine unless he
will leave a poor maid to wander alone among bats and owls and newts
and toads and worms and goblins and other noxious things----"

"But Betty, indeed----"

"Aye, John--indeed! To-night you did look on me as I had committed--as
I had been--O 'twas a hateful look! And for that look I'll be avenged,
and my vengeance is this, to wit--you shall sleep no wink this night!
Your arm sir, come!"

Almost unwillingly he gave her his arm and they went on slowly down the
lane; but before they had gone very far that long arm was close about
her and had swept her into his embrace.

"Betty," he murmured, "to be alone with you thus in a sleeping world
'tis surely a foretaste of heaven." He would have drawn her yet nearer
but she stayed him with arms outstretched.

"John," said she, "you ha' not forgot how you looked at me to-night, as
I were--impure--unworthy? O John!" The Major was silent. "It angered
me, John but--ah, it hurt me more! O Jack, how could you?" But now,
seeing him stand abashed and silent, her repelling arms relaxed and she
came a little nearer. "Indeed John, I'll allow you had some
small--some preposterously pitiful small excuse. And you might answer
that one cannot come nigh pitch without being defiled. But had you
said anything so foolish I--I should ha' sent you home to bed--at
once!" Here the Major drew her a little nearer. "But John," she
sighed, "you did doubt me for awhile--I saw it in your eyes. Look at
me again, John--here a little closer--here where the light falls
clear--look, and tell me--am I different? Do I seem any less worthy
your love than I was yesterday?"

"No," he answered, gazing into her deep eyes. "O my Betty, God help me
if ever I lost faith in you, for 'twould be the end of hope and faith
for me."