t your head, time and again, those two days,
in my--my worship of your goodness to my father and my excitement in
recognizing in his friend the hero of my girlhood, that you had every
right to think I cared; but if--but if I had--if I had--loved you with
my whole soul, I could not have--why, no woman could have--I mean the
sort of girl I am couldn't have admitted it--must have denied it. And
what I was trying to do for you when we met in Rouen was--was courting
you. You surely see I couldn't have done it if I had cared. It
would have been brazen! And do you think that then I could have
answered--'Yes'--even if I wanted to--even if I had been sure of myself?
And now--" Her voice sank again to a whisper. "And now----"

From the meadows across the creek, and over the fields, came a far
tinkling of farm-bells. Three months ago, at this hour, John Harkless
had listened to that sound, and its great lonesomeness had touched his
heart like a cold hand; but now, as the mists were rising from the water
and the small stars pierced the sky one by one, glinting down through
the dim, immeasurable blue distances, he found no loneliness in heaven
or earth. He leaned forward toward her; the bench was between them. The
last light was gone; evening had fallen.

"And now--" he said.

She moved backward as he leaned nearer.

"You promised to remember on the day you understood," she answered, a
little huskily, "that it was all from the purest gratitude."

"And--and there is nothing else?"

"If there were," she said, and her voice grew more and more unsteady,
"if there were, can't you see that what I have done--" She stopped, and
then, suddenly, "Ah, it would have been _brazen_!"

He looked up at the little stars and he heard the bells, and they struck
into his heart like a dirge. He made a singular gesture of abnegation,
and then dropped upon the bench with his head bowed between his hands.

She pressed her hand to her bosom, watching him in a startled fashion,
her eyes wide and her lips parted. She took a few quick, short steps
toward the garden, still watching him over her shoulder.

"You mustn't worry," he said, not lifting his bent head, "I know you're
sorry. I'll be all right in a minute."

She gave a hurried glance from right to left and from left to right,
like one in terror seeking a way of escape; she gathered her skirts in
her hand, as if to run into the garden; but suddenly she turned and ran
to him--ran to him swiftly,