t ask me why. God knows I want to tell
you everything; but--but presently. You can trust me, Celia?"

"I'd trust you with my life, with all that there is of me," she said,
with a simplicity that made him catch her to him.

"You must trust me, for the present," he said. "Let me think things
over. I can't think now--I can scarcely realise that you are in my arms,
that you are mine. Mine! Mine, after all this time of waiting and
longing. Tell me once more, just once more, that you love me, Celia."

"I love you!" she breathed, her star-like eyes meeting his
unflinchingly. "Oh, how strange it is! I don't even know your name."

He winced imperceptibly, and his lips drew straight. They had almost
formed the words "Derrick Dene," but he held them back.

"Sydney," he said. "Sydney Green."

"Sydney," she murmured; and though Derrick hated the name on her lips,
yet it sounded the sweetest music.

"You'll meet me to-morrow here, in the morning, Celia? I could not wait
all day. Be here at ten o'clock."

"I will."

"By that time, I shall have thought things over; I shall be able to tell
you----Oh, dearest, must you go? You seem to take my life with you."

"And I leave mine with you," she said, gravely.

"Celia! You've got my life and my heart in this little hand of yours."
He kissed it.

"And do you think I shall not hold them? But I must go. Yes; kiss me
once more--only once, or I shall never be able to leave you. I will be
here at ten o'clock. It will seem an age----"

He gripped her to him, and kissed her; and he stood, with hand pressed
hard against the tree, watching the slight, graceful form till it
disappeared from his view.

It may be noted, by the student of human nature, that neither of them
had spoken of the woman for whom Derrick had been ready to sacrifice his
good name, his life itself. Perfect love means perfect faith, and they
were so sure of each other's love and faith, that it may be said neither
of them gave the other woman a thought; and if they had done so, Celia
would not have been jealous of the past, and Derrick would have regarded
the boyish passion of which he had been so completely cured, as
something nebulous and unimportant. At that moment, he was capable of
thinking only of Celia; the past was like a dream, his heart was in the
present and future; and his happiness was alloyed by one regret
only--that he had concealed from Celia his real name and his connection
with the Heytons. But, as