us by the aid you give, efficient
as few could make it. Yes, there shall be no concealment far better so.'

'You have no fear of the views they will take?'

'None!' he said, with characteristic decision. 'If they are
unreasonable, absurd, our course is plain enough. You will be my wife
when I ask you to, Emily?'

She faltered, and held her hand to him.

'Is it worth while to go hack to Oxford?' he mused, caressing the
fingers he had kissed.

'Oh, yes; you must,' Emily urged, with a sort of fear in her sudden
courage. 'You must not disappoint them, your father, your friends.'

'My fair wise one!' he murmured, gazing rapturously at her. 'Oh, Emily,
think what our life will be! Shall we not drain the world of its wisdom,
youth of its delight! Hand in hand, one heart, one brain--what shall
escape us? It was you I needed to give completeness to my thought and
desire.'

The old dream, the eternal fancy. This one, this and no other, chosen
from out the myriads of human souls. Individuality the servant of
passion; mysteries read undoubtingly with the eye of longing. Bead
perhaps so truly; who knows?

She came nearer, imperceptibly, her raised face aglow like the morning.

'Wilfrid--you believe--you know that I love you?'

The last word breathed out in the touching of lips with lips. What could
he reply, save those old, simple words of tenderness, that small
vocabulary of love, common to child and man? The goddess that made
herself woman for his sake--see, did he not hold her clasped to him! But
she was mute again. The birds sang so loudly round about them, uttered
their hearts so easily, but Emily could only speak through silence. And
afterwards she knew there was so much she should have said. What matter?
One cannot find tongue upon the threshold of the holy of holies.

CHAPTER IV

A CONFLICT OF OPINIONS

Beatrice Redwing's visit only extended over the second day, and during
that there was little, if any, separate conversation between her and
Wilfrid. The change in her from the free gaiety and restfulness of the
morning of her arrival could not escape notice, though she affected a
continuance of the bright mood. Mr. Athel and his sister both observed
her real preoccupation, as if of trouble, and mentally attributed it to
something that had passed during the afternoon's ride. Mrs. Rossall did
not look for confidences. Beatrice would gossip freely enough of trivial
experiences, or of the details of faith