fidgety and ill at ease, torn by a thousand dreads, and
consumed by anxiety, waiting impatiently for the evening, and puzzling
over what could be the matter. He felt that for one moment of mad
indiscretion, when allowing himself to be cast adrift upon the sea of
passion, the frail bark of his life had set out upon an adventure from
which he could not now turn back. He was out upon the great ocean
current of circumstances, where everything was unknown and uncharted, so
far as he was concerned. What rocks lay in his track, he did not know;
but his heart guessed, and sought in many ways of finding a course that
would bring his voyage to an end in the haven of comfort and
respectability. Respectability was his god, as he knew it was the god of
his parents. Money might save him; but there was something repugnant in
the thought of leaving the whole burden of disgrace upon Mysie. For,
after all, the fault was wholly his, and it was his duty to face the
consequences. Still if a way could be found of getting over it in an
easy way it would be better. But he would leave that till the evening
when he had learned from Mysie, whether his fears were correct or not,
and then a way might be found out of the difficulty.

But the day seemed long in passing, and by the time the clock chimed
nine he was in a fever of excitement, and pained and ill with dread.

Yet he was late when it came the hour, and Mysie was there first and had
already met Robert before he reached the grove.

When Robert had gone away, and she sat crying upon the moor, she felt
indeed as if the whole world was slipping from her and that her life was
finished. Only ruin, black, unutterable, stared her in the face. Oh, if
only Robert had spoken sooner, she thought. If only that terrible
beautiful night with its moonlight witchery had not been lived as it had
been! If only something had intervened to prevent what had happened!
And she sobbed in her despair, knowing what was before her and learning
all too late, that Robert was the man she loved and wanted.

Then when her passionate grief had spent itself, she rose as she saw
Peter coming hurriedly to meet her.

"What is the matter, Mysie?" he asked with real concern in his voice,
noting the tear-stained face and her over-wrought condition. "What is
it, Mysie?"

But Mysie did not answer just then, and they both turned and passed into
the grove, walking separately, as if afraid of each other's touch, and
something re