I shall not dwell here on the bitterness of those moments. We have all
known sorrows in our lives,--great sorrows. The clergyman was a wise
man, and did not strive to comfort me with words. But he sat there under
the leaves with his arm about me until a blinding bolt split the
blackness of the sky and the thunder rent our ears, and a Caribbean storm
broke over Temple Bow with all the fury of the tropics. Then he led me
through the drenching rain into the house, nor heeded the wet himself on
his Sunday coat.

A great anger stayed me in my sorrow. I would no longer tarry under Mrs.
Temple's roof, though the world without were a sea or a desert. The one
resolution to escape rose stronger and stronger within me, and I
determined neither to eat nor sleep until I had got away. The thought of
leaving Nick was heavy indeed; and when he ran to me in the dark hall and
threw his arms around me, it needed all my strength to keep from crying
aloud.

"Davy," he said passionately, "Davy, you mustn't mind what she says. She
never means anything she says--she never cares for anything save her
pleasure. You and I will stay here until we are old enough to run away
to Kentucky. Davy! Answer me, Davy!"

I could not, try as I would. There were no words that would come with
honesty. But I pulled him down on the mahogany settle near the door
which led into the back gallery, and there we sat huddled together in
silence, while the storm raged furiously outside and the draughts banged
the great doors of the house. In the lightning flashes I saw Nick's
face, and it haunted me afterwards through many years of wandering. On
it was written a sorrow for me greater than my own sorrow. For God had