l I go all my days, dear John--since thou art indeed the
only man----"

The soft voice faltered, died away, and sinking into his embrace she
gave her lips to his.

"Betty!" he murmured. "Ah God--how I do worship thee!"

The hours sped by and rang their knell unheeded, for them time was not,
until at last she stirred within his arms.

"O love," she sighed, "look, it is the dawn again--our dawn, John. But
alas, I must away--let us go." And she shivered.

"Art cold, my Betty, and the air will chill thee----"

"Thy old coat, John, the dear old coat I stole away from thee." So he
brought the Ramillie coat and girded it about her loveliness and she
rubbed soft cheek against threadbare cuff. "Dear shabby old thing!"
she sighed, "it brought to me thy letters--so shall I love it alway,
John."

"But thy shoes!" said he. "Thy little shoes! And the dew so heavy!"
My lady laughed and reached up to kiss his anxious brow.

"Nay," she murmured as he opened the door----

"'Tis dabbling in the dew that makes the milkmaids fair."

Hand in hand, and creeping stealthily as truant children, they came out
upon the terrace.

"John," she whispered, "'tis a something grey dawn and yet methinks
this bringeth us even more joy than the last."

"And Betty," said he a little unsteadily, "there will be--other
dawns--an God be kind--soon, beloved--soon!"

"Yes, John," she answered, face hidden against his velvet coat, "God
will be kind."

"And the dew, my Betty----"

"What of it, John?" she questioned, not moving.

"Is heavier than I thought. And thou'rt no milkmaid, and beyond all
milkmaids fair."

"Dost think so, John dear?"

"Aye, I do!" he answered. "So, sweet woman of my dreams--come!"

Saying which he caught her in compelling arms and lifting her high
against his heart, stood awhile to kiss hair and eyes and vivid mouth,
then bore her away through the dawn.

And thus it was that Sergeant Zebedee Tring, gloomy of brow, in faded,
buff-lined service coat, in cross-belts and spatterdashes, paused on
his way stablewards and catching his breath, incontinent took cover
behind a convenient bush; but finding himself wholly unobserved, stole
forth to watch them out of sight. Now though the dawn was grey, yet
upon those two faces, so near together, he had seen a radiance far
brighter than the day--wherefore his own gloom vanished and he turned
to look up at Mrs. Agatha's open lattice-window. Then he stooped and
very