f such a
revelation of woman's love.

[Illustration: "'Unworthy--unworthy!' was Champney Googe's cry, as he
knelt before Aileen"]

Aileen lifted his head, laid her arms around his neck, drew him by her
young strength and her gentle compelling words to a seat beside her on
the granite block. She kept her arms about him.

"No, Champney, not unworthy; but worthy, worthy of it all--all that life
can give you in compensation for those seven years. We'll put it all
behind us; we'll live in the present and in hope of a blessed future.
Take heart, my husband--"

The bowed shoulders heaved beneath her arms.

"So little to offer--so little--"

"'So little'!" she exclaimed; "and is it 'little' you call your love for
me? Is it 'little' that I'm to have a home--at last--of my own? Is it
'little' that the husband I love is going out of it and coming home to
it in his daily work, and my heart going out to him both ways at once?
And is it 'little' you call the gift of a mother to her who is
motherless--" her voice faltered.

Champney caught her in his arms; his tears fell upon the dark head.

"I'm a coward, Aileen, and you are just like our Father Honore; but I
_will_ put all behind me. I _will_ not regret. I _will_ work out my own
salvation here in my native place, among my own and among strangers. I
vow here I _will_, God helping me, if only in thankfulness for the two
hearts that are mine...."

* * * * *

The afterglow faded from the western heavens. The twilight came on
apace. The two still sat there in the darkening shed, at times
unburdening their over-charged hearts; at others each rested heart and
body and soul in the presence of the other, and both were aware of the
calming influence of the dim and silent shed.

"How did you happen to come down here just to-night, and after work hours
too, Champney?" she asked, curious to know the how and the why of this
meeting.

"I came down for my second chisel. I remembered when I got home that it
needed sharpening and I could not do without it to-morrow morning. Of
course the machine shop was closed, so I thought I'd try my hand at it
on the grindstone up home this evening."

"Then is this it?" she exclaimed, picking up the chisel from the block.

"Yes, that's mine." He held out his hand for it.

"Indeed, you're not going to have it--not this one! I'll buy you
another, but this is mine. Wasn't I holding it in my hand and thinking
of you w