in the rain, had taken refuge in the church, and had come at last in the clearing weather to the place which was dedicated to their meetings with the serene spirit which watched over them. They were young and ardent, and they had been wildly and humanly happy, yet now, for the moment, their happiness was glorified by the ethereal, the exquisite.
"Our marriage shall be forever," Crispin whispered. "I shall love you to the end of the world."
Perhaps because he believed it, it might come true. To Louis Carew love had been always the adventure of the moment. To Crispin it meant allegiance to an ideal. Thus the two starting from different points would arrive at last at different goals. As a man thinks shapes, in the main, his destiny.
"I shall love you to the end of the world," said Crispin therefore, and held Hildegarde close, and took the kiss for which he had asked when he stood by the gate a year ago.
Around them swept the murmuring breeze, and it seemed to Crispin that Elizabeth's voice said low in his ear:
"Hold her to your heart as I have held her."
When it was time for them to go, they raced hand in hand down the hill. Up the road they went, passing a taxi whose lights cast them into the shadow so that they were not seen by the occupant. Hildegarde did not know that her father was in the taxi. If she had known, she would have let him go. Her happiness did not include him. The time might come when she would forgive, but today she had forgotten him.
The two young people laughed as they ran. They
