melted away as soon as
the service was over, and had probably gone home with the rest of the
men. It was disappointing, for she had come to consider their little
time together on Sunday as a very pleasant hour, this few minutes after
the service when they would talk about real living and the vital things
of existence. But he was gone!

She turned, and there he was, quite near the door, coming toward her.
Her face lighted up with a joy that was unmistakable, and his own smile
in answer was a revelation of his deeper self.

"Oh, I'm so glad you are not gone!" she said, eagerly. "I wanted to tell
you--" And then she stopped, and the color flooded her face rosily, for
she saw in his eyes how glad he was and forgot to finish her sentence.

He came up gravely, after all, and, standing just a minute so beside the
door, took both her hands in both his. It was only for a second that he
stood so, looking down into her eyes. I doubt if either of them knew
till afterward that they had been holding hands. It seemed the right and
natural thing to do, and meant so much to each of them. Both were glad
beyond their own understanding over that moment and its tenderness.

It was all very decorous, and over in a second, but it meant much to
remember afterward, that look and hand-clasp.

"I wanted to tell you," he said, tenderly, "how much that story did for
me. It was wonderful, and it helped me to decide something I have been
perplexed over--"

"Oh, I am glad!" she said, half breathlessly.

So, talking in low, broken sentences, they went back to the piano and
tried over several songs for the next Sunday, lingering together, just
happy to be there with each other, and not half knowing the significance
of it all. As the purple lights on the school-room wall grew long and
rose-edged, they walked slowly to the Tanner house and said good night.

There was a beauty about the young man as he stood for a moment looking
down upon the girl in parting, the kind of beauty there is in any
strong, wild thing made tame and tender for a great love by a great
uplift. Gardley had that look of self-surrender, and power made
subservient to right, that crowns a man with strength and more than
physical beauty. In his fine face there glowed high purpose, and deep
devotion to the one who had taught it to him. Margaret, looking up at
him, felt her heart go out with that great love, half maiden, half
divine, that comes to some favored women even here on e