words on his lips, she would have come to his arms with a sigh of
content, and found rest, and peace, and joy. How he had proven himself!
He was a man; gentle, strong, modest, brave. He was the incarnated hero
of her girl dreams, standing this moment by her side--and yet how far
away he was! Why would he not come closer! Surely he knew she would
forgive and offer him the sweet haven of her arms, the solace of her
lips and the caresses of her hands! Surely he loved her, for he was not
deceitful, and that night, that awful, blissful night he had taken her
to him and shielded her and led her home, and had plead with her for
some tenderness. She could not give it then, though her heart was aching
with love. She could not give it now, unless he would unseal his lips,
and lay bare the hidden years. It was the test, and she knew it. She
acknowledged it with inward fear, and her soul quaked. She could do
nothing but wait. Hers was the bitter part; the hard portion. To
wait--wait--and daily place a restraining hand upon her love; to crush
it down into submission hour after hour as it rose up and demanded its
own. How long? How long? Already it seemed ages, and his presence had
come to bring suffering.

Twilight was stealing over the earth. A gentle breeze came up from the
south, laden with the scents of late summer. Peter was bringing The
Prince back for an opinion of the colt's performance.

"You have done well with him, Peter," said Julia. "I shall tell father
how nicely you ride him, and of his remarkable speed. He will be
pleased. Good-bye. Take good care of him."

Glenning felt that he should add a word, but somehow it wouldn't come.
Julia's voice had sounded unfamiliar to his ears. He had been keenly
conscious of the swift change in her after the horse had passed. He had
seen her start to speak, then close her lips, and he had wondered what
the unuttered words could have been. Then he grew troubled as he stood
silently by her side, watching her averted face. A shadow had fallen
upon it, blotting out the bright expression of joy. He saw it change as
a sun-kissed landscape might when a cloud veils the sun. Her sweet mouth
had relaxed into a pathetic little droop; the rich undercolour had
receded from her cheeks; her eyes had shaped themselves to a look of
weary sadness. Even her rounded, pliant figure seemed to lose part of
its grace, and to sag of its own weight. He saw the breeze lifting the
little curls upon her neck an