at the Barony--I felt it was asking too much when you were there.
That was a door I didn't want closed to me!"

"I imagine you will be welcome at Belle Plain. You are Tom's
friend." Murrell bit his lip, and then laughed as his mind
conjured up a picture of the cherished Tom. Suddenly he reached
out and rested his hand on hers. He lived in the shadow of
chance not always kind, his pleasures were intoxicating drafts
snatched in the midst of dangers, and here was youth, sweet and
perfect, that only needed awakening.

"Betty--if I might think--" he began, but his tongue stumbled.
His love-making was usually of a savage sort, but some quality in
the girl held him in check. The words he had spoken many times
before forsook him. Betty drew away from him, an angry color on
her cheeks and an angry light in her eyes. "Forgive me, Betty!"
muttered Murrell, but his heart beat against his ribs, and
passion sent its surges through him. "Don't you know what I'm
trying to tell you?" he whispered. Betty gathered up her reins.
"Not yet--" he cried, and again he rested a heavy hand on hers.
"Don't you know what's kept me here? It was to be near you--only
that--I've been waiting for this chance to speak. It was long in
coming, but it's here now--and it's mine!" he exulted. His eyes
burned with a luminous fire, he urged his horse nearer and they
came to a halt. "Look here--I'll follow you North--I swear I
love you--say I may!"

"Let me go--let me go!" cried Betty indignantly.

"No--not yet!" he urged his horse still nearer and gathered her