ten to you, what would the world say, what would
YOU yourself say a few years hence? Oh, be reasonable. Think of it,--it
would be so wild,--so mad! so--so--utterly ridiculous!"

In proof of its ludicrous quality, two tears escaped her eyes in
the darkness. But Clarence caught the white flash of her withdrawn
handkerchief in the shadow, and captured her returning hand. It was
trembling, but did not struggle, and presently hushed itself to rest in
his.

"I'm not only a fool but a brute," he said in a lower voice. "Forgive
me. I have given you pain,--you, for whom I would have died."

They had both stopped. He was still holding her sleeping hand. His arm
had stolen around the burnous so softly that it followed the curves
of her figure as lightly as a fold of the garment, and was presumably
unfelt. Grief has its privileges, and suffering exonerates a
questionable situation. In another moment her fair head MIGHT have
dropped upon his shoulder. But an approaching voice uprose in the
adjoining broad allee. It might have been the world speaking through the
voice of the lawyer Sanderson.

"Yes, he is a good fellow, and an intelligent fellow, too, but a perfect
child in his experience of mankind."

They both started, but Mrs. Peyton's hand suddenly woke up and grasped
his firmly. Then she said in a higher, but perfectly level tone:--

"Yes, I think with you we had better look at it again in the sunlight
to-morrow. But here come our friends; they have probably been waiting
for us to join them and go in."

* * * * *

The wholesome freshness of early morning was in the room when Clarence
awoke, cleared and strengthened. His resolution had been made. He would
leave the rancho that morning, to enter the world again and seek his
fortune elsewhere. This was only right to HER, whose future it should
never be said he had imperiled by his folly and inexperience; and if, in
a year or two of struggle he could prove his right to address her again,
he would return. He had not spoken to her since they had parted in the
garden, with the grim truths of the lawyer ringing in his ears, but he
had written a few lines of farewell, to be given to her after he
had left. He was calm in his resolution, albeit a little pale and
hollow-eyed for it.

He crept downstairs in the gray twilight of the scarce-awakened house,
and made his way to the stables. Saddling his horse, and mounting,
he paced forth into the crisp morning air. The sun, just rise