his. "I don't see how I can help it," she said. "You've knocked down all
my obstacles. But you do understand, don't you? You won't--won't--"

"Abuse your trust? No, never!" said Jeff Ironside. "I will die by my own
hand sooner."

"Ah, I can't help liking you," Doris said impulsively, as if in
explanation or excuse. "You're so big."

"Thank you," Jeff said very earnestly. "And you won't cry any more?"

She uttered a whimsical little laugh. "But I wasn't crying for myself,"
she said, as she dried her eyes. "I was crying for you."

"Well, you mustn't," said Jeff. "You have given me all I want--much more
than I dared to hope for." He paused a moment, then abruptly, "You won't
think better of it when I'm gone, will you?" he said. "You won't write
and say you have changed your mind?"

She gave him her hand again with an air of comradeship. "It's a bargain,
Mr. Ironside," she said, with gentle dignity. "A very one-sided one, I
fear, but still--a bargain."

"I beg your pardon," murmured Jeff.

CHAPTER VI

THE WEDDING PRESENT

The marriage of Jeff Ironside to Colonel Elliot's daughter created a
sensation in the neighbourhood even greater than that which followed the
Colonel's death. But the ceremony itself was strictly private. It took
place so quietly and so suddenly very early on a misty October morning
that it was over before most people knew anything about it. Jim Dawlish
knew, and was present with old Granny Grimshaw; but, save for the family
lawyer who gave away the bride and the aged rector who married them, no
one else was in the secret.

Mrs. Elliot knew, but she and her stepdaughter had never been in
sympathy, and she had already left the place and gone to town.

Very small and pathetic looked the bride in her deep mourning on that
dim autumn morning, but she played her part with queenly dignity,
unfaltering, undismayed. If she had acted upon impulse she was fully
prepared to face the consequences.

As for Jeff, he was gruff almost to rudeness, so desperate was the
turmoil of his soul. Not one word did he address to his bride from the
moment of entering the church to that of leaving it save such as were
contained in the marriage service. And even when they passed out
together into the grey churchyard he remained grimly silent till she
turned with a little smile and addressed him.

"Good-morning, Jeff!" she said, and her slender, ungloved hand, very
cold but superbly confident, found its way i