"He will not repeat it. Forgive him. He is fretful, and he thinks the
world has gone hard with him. He has sinned, and those who sin suffer
always. It has been a long and terrible feud between him and yours. I
brought you here--let me take you away."

Her soft hands were on his--her beautiful tear-wet eyes lifted to his
face. He could not withstand that look. He would have given up the plans
of a lifetime, if she had asked him with those imploring eyes.

"I yield to you, Miss Harrison--only to you," he replied. "If John
Trevlyn lives, he owes his life to you. He judged rightly--there was
murder in my soul, and he saw it in my eyes. Years ago, after they laid
my poor heart-broken mother out of my sight, I swore a terrible vow of
vengeance on the old man whose cruelty had hurried her into the grave.
But for you, I should have kept the vow this moment. But I will obey you.
Take me wherever you will."

She led him down the stairs, across the lawn, and out on the lonely
beach, where the quiet moon and the passionless stars dropped down their
crystal rain. The sweet south wind blew up cool from the sea, and afar
off the tinkle of a sheep-bell stirred the silence of the night. The lamp
in the distant lighthouse gleamed like a spark of fire, and at their feet
broke the tireless billows, white as the snow-drifts of December.

There was something inexpressibly soothing in the serenity of the night.
Arch felt its influence. The hot color died out of his cheek, his pulse
beat slower, he lifted his eyes to the purple arch of the summer sky.

"All God's universe is at rest," said Margie, her voice breaking upon his