were unwavering and resolute as
the man himself.

They reached the cottage. He made her enter it before him, and he
followed, but he did not close the door. Instead, he stopped and
deliberately hooked it back.

Then, with the low call of the sea filling the humble little room, he
turned round to the girl, who stood with her head bent, awaiting his
pleasure.

"Columbine," he said, and the name came with an unaccustomed softness
from his lips, "I've something to say to you. You've been hiding
yourself from me. I know. I know. And you needn't. Them flowers--I
gathered 'em and I sent 'em up to you every day, because I wanted you to
understand as you've nothing to fear from me. I wanted you to know as
everything is all right, and I mean well by you. I didn't know how to
tell you, and then I saw the roses growing outside the door, and I
thought as maybe they'd do it for me. They made me think of you somehow.
They were so white--and pure."

"Ah!" The word was a wrung sound, half cry, half sob. His roses fell
suddenly and scattered upon the floor between them. Columbine's hands
covered her face.

She stood for a second or two in tense silence, then under her breath
she spoke. "You don't believe--that--of me!"

"I do, then," asserted Rufus, in his deep voice a note that was almost
aggressive.

She lifted her face suddenly, even fiercely, showing him the shamed
blush that burned there. "You didn't believe it--that night!" she said.

His eyes met hers with a certain stubbornness. "All right. I didn't," he
said.

Her look became a challenge. "Then why--how--have you come to change
your mind?"

He faced her steadily. "Maybe I know you better than I knew you then,"
he said slowly.

She made a sharp gesture as if pierced by an intolerable pain. "And
that--that has made a difference to your--your intentions!"

He moved also at that. His red brows came together. "You're quite
wrong," he said, his voice very low. "That night--I know--I was beyond
myself, I was mad. But since then I've some to my senses. And--I love
you too much to harm you. That's the truth. I'd love you
anyway--whatever you were. It's just my nature to."

His hands clenched with the words; he spoke with strong effort; but his
eyes looked deeply into hers, and they held no passion. They were still
and quiet as the summer sea below them.

Columbine stood facing him as if at bay, but she must have felt the
influence of his restraint, for she showed no