eyes, but he kept the mask down, and looked at her with the eyes of a
stranger while he talked, and smiled a stiff conventional smile. But a
look of anguish grew in his young face, like the sorrow of something
primeval, such as a great rock in a desert.

The minister had forgotten his article and was watching them through
the window, the tall handsome youth, his head bared with the glint of
the sun on his short cropped gold curls making one think of a young
prince, yet a prince bound under a spell and frozen in a block of ice.
He was handsome as Adonis, every feature perfect, and striking in its
manly beauty, yet there was nothing feminine about him. The minister
was conscious of all this as he watched--this boy whom he had seen grow
up, and this girl of his heart. A great still question came into the
father's look as he watched.

The minister was conscious of Lynn's mother standing in the doorway
just behind him, although she had made no noise in entering. And at
once she knew he was aware of her presence.

"Isn't that Mark Carter?" she asked just above a breath.

He nodded.

"And she doesn't know! You haven't told her?"

The minister shook his head.

"He will tell her. See, he is telling her now!"

The mother drew a shade nearer.