am a stranger with thee, and a sojourner: as all my fathers were.
O spare me a little, that I may recover my strength before I go
hence...." The intoning voice fell dully on his ears.

To go away! To pass out of her life, to a future empty of her? How
could he do that? When he had parted from her in the rain he had felt
a frenzy of obstinacy. It had seemed so clear that the barrier must
in the end yield before their love. He had never thought of surrender.
Now he told himself that flight was all that was left him. She--her
happiness--nothing else mattered. Damory Court and its future--the plans
he had made--the Valiant name--in that clarifying instant he knew that
all these, from that May day on the Red Road, had clung about _her_. She
had been the inspiration of all.

"Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom--"

The voices of the unvested choir rose clearly and some one at his side
was whispering that this had been the major's favorite hymn. But he
scarcely heard.

When the service was ended the people filled the big yard while the last
reverent words were spoken at the grave. Valiant, standing with the
rest, saw Shirley, with her mother and the doctor, pass out of the gate.
She was not looking toward him. A mist was before his eyes as they drove
away, and the vision of her remained wavering and indistinct--a pale
blurred face under shining hair.

He realized after a time that the yard was empty and the sexton was
locking the church door. He went slowly to the gate, and just outside
some one spoke to him. It was Chisholm Lusk. They had not met since the
night of the ball. Even in his own preoccupation, Valiant noted that
Lusk's face seemed to have lost its exuberant youthfulness. It was worn
as if with sleeplessness, and had a look of suffering that touched him.
And all at once, while they stood looking at each other, Valiant knew
what the other had waited to say.

"I won't beat about the bush," said Lusk stammering. "I've got to ask
you something. I reckon you've guessed that I--that Shirley--"

Valiant touched the young fellow's arm. "Yes," he said, "I think I
know."

"It's no new thing, with me," said the other hoarsely. "It's been three
years. The night of the ball, I thought perhaps that--I don't mean to
ask what you might have a right to resent--but I must find out. Is there
any reason why I shouldn't try my luck?"

Valiant shook his head. "No," he said heavily, "there is no reason."

The