"Yes."

Then to James's utter surprise Clemency broke down, and began to cry.
"Oh," she wailed, "I don't know as I want to go. I am afraid all the
time. If we were out driving, and he came up to the horse's head, what
could we do?"

"He would get a cut across the face that he would remember," James
returned fiercely.

"But he would see me."

"It would be dark."

"He might have a lantern."

"You can wear a thick veil."

Clemency sobbed harder than ever. "Oh, no," she wailed, "I don't want to
go so, in the dark, with a thick veil over my face, thinking every
minute he may come. Oh, no, I don't want to go."

"You poor little soul," said James, and there was something in his voice
which he himself had never heard before. Clemency glanced up at him
quickly, and he saw as plainly as if he had been looking in a glass
himself in her blue eyes. Instantly emotions of which he had dreamed,
but never experienced, leaped up in his heart like flame. He knew that
he loved Clemency. What he had felt for her mother had been passionless
worship, giving all, and asking nothing. This was love which asked as
well as gave. "Clemency," he began, and his voice was hoarse with