ful?" she sighed. "Had you been a woman you would have
guessed ere now, I think. But a woman is so much quicker than a blind,
blundering man. And you are very blind, John--and a prodigious
blunderer."

The Major stood silent and with bowed head.

"So this was my scheme to save my dear Charles and avenge myself upon
Mr. Dalroyd--and see how near you brought it to ruin, John, and your
own life in jeopardy with your fighting. But men are so clumsy, alas!
And you are vastly clumsy--aren't you, John?"

The Major did not answer: and now, seeing him so humbled, his grand
manner quite forgotten, her look softened and her voice grew a little
kinder.

"But you did save Charles from the soldiers, John. And after, did save
me from Mr. Dalroyd's evil passion--wherefore, though I loved thee ere
this, my love for thee grew mightily--O mightily, John. But now, alas!
how should a poor maid wed and give herself into the power of a
man--like thee, John? A man so passionate, so prone to cruel doubt, to
jealousy, to evil and vain imaginings, to cruel fits of--of dignity--O
John!"

The Major raised his head and saw her leaning towards him in the great
chair, her hands outstretched to him, her eyes full of a yearning
tenderness.

"Betty!" He was down before her on his knees, those gentle hands
pressed to his brow, his cheek, his eager lips.

"I have been blind, blind--a blind fool!"

"But you were brave and generous also, dear John, though over-prone to
cruel doubt of me from the first, John, the very first."

"Yes, my lady," he confessed, humbly.

"Though mayhap I did give thee some--some little cause, John, so now do
I forgive thee!"

"This night," said he sighing, "I destroyed thy dear letter."

"Did you, John?"

"And thought to destroy my love for thee with it!"

"And--did you, John?"

"Nay, 'tis beyond my strength. O Betty--canst love me as I do
thee--beyond all thought and reason?"

At this she looked down at him with smile ineffably tender and drew his
head to her bosom and clasping it there stooped soft lips to cheek and
brow and wistful eyes.

"Listen, dear foolish, doubting John, my love for thee is of this sort;
if thou wert sick and feeble instead of strong, my strength should
cherish thee; wert thou despised and outcast, these arms should shelter
thee, hadst thou indeed ridden hence, then would I humbly have followed
thee. And now, John--unless thou take and wed me--then solitary and
loveless wil