tered nothing to her,
for the present was hers and all the future. What a glorious prospect!

"You haven't the foggiest idea what a scoundrel I am!"

"Then I must have a special leaning towards scoundrels!" she replied,
her face hidden on his shoulder.

"God knows the biggest thing in my life is my love for you," he said
brokenly. "My dream-girl! If I lose you, I lose everything. You will not
fail me, Honey?" he asked solemnly. "If all the world should wish to
part us, you will still hold to me?"

"I could not change. Whatever happens, I shall always love you, even if
all the world were against you."

He was not satisfied. For many minutes he held her to his heart,
covering her face with passionate, lingering kisses.

"And all this while we are forgetting that your wrist is hurt!" she
exclaimed.

"Damn my wrist! Look at me. Your eyes cannot lie!"

Honor lifted her eyes, clear and sweet to his, full of the love and
loyalty she felt, and saw an unutterable sadness in the depths of his
soul. He should have been rejoicing, yet he was like a man burdened with
a great remorse.

"Say, 'Brian, I am yours till death.'"

Honor repeated the words gravely.

He continued: "'I swear that, when you are ready to take me away, I will
go with you, and none shall hold me back.' Say that."

Honor said it faithfully. "I don't care if we have the quietest of
weddings," she added, "so long as it is in a church."

After a pregnant pause, he said tentatively, "Mr. Meek, I dare say,
could tie the knot."

"When may I tell Mother?"

"Will she keep it to herself?"

"She will tell Father, of course."

"Can't we have our happiness all to ourselves for a little while?"

Honor thought she could understand his deep sensitiveness of criticism
and questions--he was so unlike all the other men she knew--and
consented. Moreover, she loved him and wanted to please him. There was
no wrong in keeping secret what concerned themselves so closely, till he
was ready to make it public. Her own dear mother, from whom she had kept
nothing in her life, would be the first to understand and appreciate her
motive, as she was the most sympathetic woman in the world, and wanted
nothing so much as her child's happiness.

"I will do exactly as you wish, dear," she said, glad to offer an early
proof of her great affection.

Dalton kissed her rapturously, in unceasing wonderment at her
condescension in loving one so utterly unworthy. He seemed unable