e said.

"Why do you care to ask?"

"Is it mine?"

The girl had stopped too. Her face was set towards the sea and its great
sincerity, which murmurs against the lies and the deceptions of many
lives that defile the land, and takes so many more to itself that they
may persist no longer in their evil doing. And perhaps it was her vision
of the sea that swept from Lily any desire to be a coquette, or to be
maidenly,--that is, false. She looked from the sea into Maurice's eyes.

"Yes," she answered. "It is yours."

"You love me then, Lily?"

"Yes, I love you, Maurice."

There was no tremor in her voice. There was no shame in her eyes. Alone
in her chamber on the night of Maurice's confession she had flushed and
trembled. Now she stood before him and made this great acknowledgement
simply and fearlessly. And yet she knew that he did not love her with
the desire of man to the woman whom he chooses out of the world to be
his companion. She was moved by a resolve that was very great to ignore
all that girls think most of at such a moment. Maurice took a step
towards her. How true and how strong she looked.

"I dare not ask you to share my life," he said. "It is too shadowed, too
sad. I have not the right."

"If you will ask me, I will share it."

She put her hand into his. He felt as if her soul lay in it. They walked
on. Already the evening was dark around them.

Canon Alston was a little surprised, merely because he was a father, and
fathers are always a little surprised when men love their children. But
he liked Maurice heartily and gave his consent to the marriage. Miss
Bigelow ordered a valuable wedding-present, and resolved to live until
over the marriage day at least. And Brayfield gossiped and gloried in
possessing a legitimate cause for excitement.

As for Lily, she was strangely happy with a happiness far different from
that of the usual betrothed young girl. She loved Maurice deeply.
Nevertheless she did not blind herself to the fact that he was still
unhappy, restless, self-engrossed and often terror-stricken, although he
tried to appear more confident than of old, and to assume a gaiety
suitable to his situation in the eyes of the world. She knew he could
never be entirely free to love so long as the cry of the child rang in
his ears. And he told her that, strangely enough, since their engagement
it had become more importunate. Once he even tried to break their
contract.

"I cannot link my life wit