tually decided to admit none but a
few intimate friends into the secret of their engagement. As Ralph
sagely observed: "We shall be married so soon that it isn't worth while
facing a barrage of congratulations over such a short engagement."

They were radiantly happy, with the kind of happiness that keeps bubbling
up from sheer joy of itself--in love with each other in such a
delightfully frank and barefaced manner that everyone at Mallow regarded
them with gentle amusement and loved them for being lovers.

Nothing pleased Nan better than to persuade them into singing that
quaintly charming old song, _The Keys of Heaven_--the words of which hold
such a tender, whimsical understanding of the feminine heart. Perhaps
the refusal of the coach and four black horses "as black as pitch," and
of all the other good things wherewith the lover in the song seeks to
embellish his suit, was not rendered with quite as much emphasis as it
should have been. One might almost have suspected the lady of a desire
not to be too discouraging in her denials. But the final verse lacked
nothing in interpretation.

Passionate and beseeching, as the lover makes his last appeal, offering
the greatest gift of all, Ralph's glorious baritone entreated her:

"Oh, I will give you the keys of my heart,
And we'll be married till death us do part,
Madam, will you walk?
Madam, will you talk?
Madam, will you walk and talk with me?"

Then Penelope's eyes would glow with a lovely inner light, as though the
beautiful possibilities of that journey through life together were
envisioned in them, and her voice would deepen and mellow till it seemed
to hold all the laughter and tears, and all the kindness and tender
gaiety and exquisite solicitude of love.

Sometimes, as she was playing the accompaniment, Nan's own eyes would
fill unexpectedly with tears and the black and white notes of the piano
run together into an oblong blur of grey.

For though Peter had given her the keys of his heart that night of moon
and sea at Tintagel, she might never use them to unlock the door of
heaven.

CHAPTER XVIII

"TILL DEATH US DO PART"

Within a fortnight of Mallory's departure from St. Wennys, the whole of
the house-party at Mallow had scattered. Lord St. John was the first
to go--leaving in order to pay a short visit to Eliza McBain before
returning to town. Often though she might scarify him with her sharp
tongue, she was genuinely