little time to say it in. For Beth, admonished
that the patient must be kept quiet, and torn between joy at Peter's
promised recovery and pity for his pale face, could only look at him and
murmur soothing phrases, while Peter merely smiled and held her hand.
But that, it seemed, was enough, for Beth read in his eyes that what had
happened had merely set an enduring seal upon the affection of both of
them.

With the promise that she could see him again on the morrow, Beth went
back to her room. She had wanted to return to the village, but McGuire
had insisted upon her staying where she was under the care of the doctor
until what they were pleased to call the shock to her system had yielded
to medical treatment. Beth said nothing. She was already herself and
quite able to take up her life just where she had left it, but she
agreed to stay in McGuire's house. It seemed to make him happier when
she acquiesced in his wishes. Besides, it was nice to be waited on and
to be next to the room where the convalescent was.

But the revelation as to Peter's identity could not be long delayed.
Brierly had brought the tale back from the lumber camp, and the village
was all agog with excitement. But Beth had seen no one but Mr. McGuire
and Aunt Tillie, and Peter had requested that no one should tell her but
himself. And so in a day or so when Beth went into Peter's room she
found him with a color in his cheeks, and wearing a quizzical smile.

"I thought you were never coming, Beth," he said.

"I came as soon as they'd let me, Peter. Do you feel stronger?"

"Every hour. Better when you're here. And you?"

"Oh, I'm all right."

He looked at her with his head on one side.

"Do you think you could stand hearing something very terrible about me,
Beth?"

She glanced at him anxiously and then a smile of perfect faith responded
to his. She knew that he was getting well now, because this was a touch
of his old humor.

"H-m. I guess so. I don't believe it can be so _very_ terrible, Peter."

"It is--_very_ terrible, Beth."

But the pressure of his fingers was reassuring.

"I'm listenin'," she said.

"Well, you know, you told me once that you'd marry me no matter what I'd
been----"

"Yes. I meant that, Peter. I mean it now. It's what you are----"

Peter Nichols chuckled. It was his last chuckle as Peter Nichols.

"Well, I'm not what you thought I was. I've been acting under false
colors--under false pretenses. My name isn't Pet