o
him.... My hair is down--my waist--Oh, Kurt!"

Yet it did not very much matter how she looked or what happened. Beyond
all was the assurance of her dearness to him. Suddenly she darted away
from him again. Her heart swelled, her spirit soared, her feet were
buoyant and swift. She ran into the uncut alfalfa. It was thick and
high, tangling round her feet. Here her progress was retarded. Dorn
caught up with her. His strong hands on her shoulders felt masterful,
and the sweet terror they inspired made her struggle to get away.

"You shall--not--hold me!" she cried.

"But I will. You must be taught--not to run," he said, and wrapped her
tightly in his arms.

"Now surrender your kisses meekly!"

"I--surrender!... But, Kurt, someone will see... Dear, we'll go
back--or--somewhere--"

"Who can see us here but the birds?" he said, and the strong hands held
her fast. "You will kiss me--enough--right now--even if the whole
world--looked on!" he said, ringingly. "Lenore, my soul!... Lenore, I
love you!"

He would not be denied. And if she had any desire to deny him it was
lost in the moment. She clasped his neck and gave him kiss for kiss.

But her surrender made him think of her. She felt his effort to let her
go.

Lenore's heart felt too big for her breast. It hurt. She clung to his
hand and they walked on across the field and across a brook, up the
slope to one of Lenore's favorite seats. And there she wanted to rest.
She smoothed her hair and brushed her dress, aware of how he watched
her, with his heart in his eyes.

Had there ever in all the years of the life of the earth been so perfect
a day? How dazzling the sun! What heavenly blue the sky! And all beneath
so gold, so green! A lark caroled over Lenore's head and a quail
whistled in the brush below. The brook babbled and gurgled and murmured
along, happy under the open sky. And a soft breeze brought the low roar
of the harvest fields and the scent of wheat and dust and straw.

Life seemed so stingingly full, so poignant, so immeasurably worth
living, so blessed with beauty and richness and fruitfulness.

"Lenore, your eyes are windows--and I can see into your soul. I can
read--and first I'm uplifted and then I'm sad."

It was he who talked and she who listened. This glorious day would be
her strength when the--Ah! but she would not complete a single bitter
thought.

She led him away, up the slope, across the barley-field, now cut and
harvested, to the g