you and thought of you, and sounded the depths of your lovely nature,
and the result is that you are for me earth's one woman. I will have no
other, Mary, no other love, no other wife.'

'Lady Maulevrier will be dreadfully angry,' faltered Mary.

'Are you afraid of her anger?'

'No; I am afraid of nothing, for your sake.'

He lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it reverently, and there was
a touch of chivalry in that reverential kiss. His eyes clouded with
tears as he looked down into the trustful face. The fog had darkened to
a denser blackness, and it was almost as if they were engulfed in sudden
night.

'If we are never to find our way down the hill; if this were to be the
last hour of our lives, Mary, would you be content?'

'Quite content,' she answered, simply. 'I think I have lived long
enough, if you really love me--if you are not making fun.'

'What, Molly, do you still doubt? Is it strange that I love you?'

'Very strange. I am so different from Lesbia.'

'Yes, very different, and the difference is your highest charm. And now,
love, we had better go down whichever side of the hill is easiest, for
this fog is rather appalling. I forgive the wind, because it blew you
against my heart just now, and that is where I want you to dwell for