d," he admitted.

"No! Oh, dear, oh, dear!--and I told you not to. Philip!
_Philip_! Do you want to get shot?"

"Now you know very well I don't," he said, laughing. "I spend
every minute trying not to. . . . And, Ailsa, what do you think?
A little while ago when I was skulking along fences and lurking in
ditches--all for your sake, ungrateful fair
one!--tramp--tramp--tramp comes a column out of the darkness!
'Lord help us,' said I, 'it's the police guard, or some horrible
misfortune, and I'll never see my Ailsa any more!' Then I took a
squint at 'em, and I saw officers riding, with about a thousand
yards of gold lace on their sleeves, and I saw their music trudging
along with that set of silver chimes aloft between two scarlet
yaks' tails; and I saw the tasselled fezzes and the white gaiters
and--'Aha!' said I--'the Zou-Zous! But _which_?'

"And, by golly, I made out the number painted white on their
knapsacks; and, Ailsa, it was the 3d Zouaves, Colonel Craig!--just
arrived! And there--on that hill--are their fires!"

"Oh, Phil!" she exclaimed in rapture, "how heavenly for Celia! I'm
perfectly crazy to see Curt and Steve----"

"Please transfer a little of that sweet madness to me."

"Dear--I can't, can I?"

But she let him have her hands; and, resting beside him on the rail
fence, bent her fair head as he kissed her joined hands, let it
droop lower, lower, till her cheek brushed his. Then, turning very
slowly, their lips encountered, rested, till the faint fragrance of
hers threatened his self-control.

She opened her blue eyes as he raised his head, looking at him
vaguely in the dusk, then very gently shook her head and rested one
cheek on her open palm.

"I don't know," she sighed. "I--don't--know--" and closed her lids
once more.

"Know what, dearest of women?"

"What is going to happen to us, Phil. . . . It seems
incredible--after our vows--after the lofty ideals we----"

"The ideals are there," he said in a low voice. And, in his tone
there was a buoyancy, a hint of something new to her--something
almost decisive, something of protection which began vaguely to
thrill her, as though that guard which she had so long mounted over
herself might be relieved--the strain relaxed---the duty left to
him.

She laid one hand on his arm, looked up, searching his face,
hesitated. A longing to relax the tension of self-discipline came
over her--to let him guard them both--to leave all to him--let h