"Maybe he won't go to church at all the first Sunday and she'll
have to go alone," said Peter. "That happened in Markdale. A man
was too bashful to go to church the first time after getting
married, and his wife went alone till he got used to the idea."

"They may do things like that in Markdale but that is not the way
people behave in Carlisle," said Felicity loftily.

Seeing the Story Girl slipping away with a disapproving face I
joined her.

"What is the matter, Sara?" I asked.

"I hate to hear them talking like that about Miss Reade and Mr.
Dale," she answered vehemently. "It's really all so beautiful--
but they make it seem silly and absurd, somehow."

"You might tell me all about it, Sara," I insinuated. "I wouldn't
tell--and I'd understand."

"Yes, I think you would," she said thoughtfully. "But I can't
tell it even to you because I can't tell it well enough yet. I've
a feeling that there's only one way to tell it--and I don't know
the way yet. Some day I'll know it--and then I'll tell you, Bev."

Long, long after she kept her word. Forty years later I wrote to
her, across the leagues of land and sea that divided us, and told
her that Jasper Dale was dead; and I reminded her of her old
promise and asked its fulfilment. In reply she sent me the
written love story of Jasper Dale and Alice Reade. Now, when