"Not even for the sake of--having me?" Carlotta's voice was as
expressionless as her face. She still watched the train, almost
vanishing from sight now in the far distance, leaving a cloud of ugly
black smoke behind it to mar the lustrous azure of the June sky.

Phil, too, looked out over the valley. He dared not look at Carlotta. He
was young and very much in love. He wanted Carlotta exceedingly. For a
minute everything blurred before his gaze. It seemed as if he would try
anything, risk anything, give up anything, ride rough shod over anything,
even his own ideals, to gain her. It was a tense moment. He came very
near surrendering and thereby making himself, and Carlotta too, unhappy
forever after. But something stronger held him back. Oddly enough he
seemed to see that sign _Stuart Lambert and Son_ written large all over
the valley. His gaze came back to Carlotta. Their eyes met. The hardness
was gone from the girl's, leaving a wistful tenderness, a sweet
surrender, no man had ever seen there before. A weaker lad would have
capitulated under that wonderful, new look of Carlotta's. It only
strengthened Philip Lambert. It was for her as well as himself.

"I am sorry, Carlotta," he said. "I couldn't do it, though I'd give you
my heart to cut up into pieces if it could make you happy. Maybe I would
risk it for myself. But I can't go back on my father, even for you."

"Then you don't love me." Carlotta's rare and lovely tenderness was
burned away on the instant in a quick blaze of anger.

"Yes I do, dear. It is because I love you that I can't do it. I have to
give you the best of me, not the worst of me. And the best of me belongs
in Dunbury. I wish I could make you understand. And I wish with all my