e just now. Magnificent sunshine
spread over the great wastes of the Moor; and through it, long before he
reached Newtake, Clement saw his sweetheart returning. For a little time
he seemed intoxicated and no longer his own master. The fires of the
morning woke in him again at sight of her. They met and kissed, and he
promised her some terrific news, but did not tell it then. He lived in
the butterfly fever of the moment, and presently imparted the fever to
her. They left the road and got away into the lonely heather; then he
told her that they would be man and wife within a fortnight.

They sat close together, far from every eye, in the shade of a thorn
bush that rose beside a lonely stone.

"Within the very shadow of marriage, and you are frightened of me still!
Frightened to let me pick an apple over the orchard wall when I am going
through the gate for my own the next moment! Listen! I hear our wedding
bells!"

Only the little lizard and the hovering hawk with gold eyes saw them.

"Our wedding bells!" said Chris.

Towards set of sun Hicks saw his sweetheart to her mother's cottage. His
ecstatic joys were sobered now, and his gratitude a little lessened.

"To think what marvels o' happiness be in store for us, Clem, my awn!"

"Yes--not more than we deserve, either. God knows, if there 's any
justice, it was your turn and mine to come by a little of the happiness
that falls to the lot of men and women."

"I doan't see how highest heaven's gwaine to be better than our married
life, so long as you love me."

"Heaven! Don't compare them. What's eternity if you're half a ghost,
half a bird? That's the bribe thrown out,--to be a cold-blooded, perfect
thing, and passionless as a musical box. Give me hot blood that flows
and throbs; give me love, and a woman's breast to lean on. One great day
on earth, such as this has been, is better than a million ages of
sexless perfection in heaven. A vain reward it was that Christ offered.
It seemed highest perfection to Him, doubtless; but He judged the world
by Himself. The Camel-driver was wiser. He promised actual, healthy
flesh in paradise--flesh that should never know an ache or pain--eternal
flesh, and the joys of it. We can understand that, but where's the joy
of being a spirit? I cling to the flesh I have, for I know that Nature
will very soon want back the dust she has lent me."

CHAPTER XIII

THE WILL

Agreeably to the prediction of Doctor Parsons, Mrs.