He glanced at his watch. It was just ten o'clock. The morning work would be done. She might come for a little stroll in the woods at the back of the manse, but he would say nothing to her to-day. He would wait and watch to read her heart. He sprang up the bank, that ran along beside the fence, to go on his way. A gleam of white through the snake fence against the pink of the clover caught his eye. Under the thorn tree--he knew the spot well--and upon the grass, lay a girl. "By Jove!" he whispered, his heart stopping, thumping, then rushing, "it is Margaret." He would creep up and surprise her. The deep grass deadened his footfalls. He was close to her. He held his breath. She lay asleep, one arm under her head, the other flung wide in an abandonment of weariness. He stood gazing down upon her. Pale she looked to him, and thin and weary. The lines about her mouth and eyes spoke of cares and of griefs, too. How much older she was than he had thought! "Poor girl! she has been having a hard time! It's a shame, a downright shame! And she's only a child yet!" At the thought of her long sacrifice for those three past years a great pity stole into his heart. At that touch of pity the love that had ever filled his heart, dammed back for so long by his regard for his brother's rights, suddenly finding its new channel, burst forth and swept like a torrent through his being. He lost grip of himself and, before he knew, he had bent over the sleeping girl and kissed her lips. A long shivering sigh shook her. "Barney," she murmured, a slight smile playing about her lips. She opened her eyes. A moment she lay looking up into Dick's face, then, suddenly wide awake, she sat upright.

"You! Dick!" she cried, surprise, indignation, shame, mingling in her voice. "You--you dare to--"

"Yes, Margaret," said Dick, aghast at what he had done, "I couldn't help it. You looked so sweet and so sad, and--and I love you so much."

"You," cried the girl again, as if she could find no other word.

"What did you say?"

"I said, Margaret," he replied, gathering his courage together, "that I love you so much."

"You love me?" she gasped.

"Yes, I love you. I never knew till last night."

"Last night?" she echoed, with her eyes upon his face, now grown pale, but illuminated with a light she had never seen there before.

"Yes, last night. It was always there, Margaret," he hurried to say, "but only last night I found out I might love you. I never let myself go. I thought I had no right. I mean I thought Barney--"

At the mention of his brother's name, the face that had been white with a look almost of horror flamed quickly with red. "Last night," continued Dick, wondering at the change in her, "I found out, and this morning, Margaret, the whole world is just humming with joy because I know I may love you all I want to. Oh, it's great! I never imagined a fellow could hold so much love or so much joy. Do you understand me, Margaret? Do you knew what I am talking about?" Margaret's face had grown pale and haggard, as with pain, and her eyes were wide open with pity.

"Yes, Dick," she said slowly, "I know. I have just been learning."

The brave lips quivered, but she kept firm hold of herself. "I know all the joy and--all the pain." She stopped short at the look in Dick's face. The buoyant, glad light flickered and went out.

A look of perplexity, of great fear, and then of desolation, like that on her own face, spread over his. He knew her too well to misunderstand her meaning. She leaned over to him, still kneeling in the grass. "Oh, Dick, dear!" she cried, taking his hand in hers with a mother-touch and tone, "must you suffer, too? Oh, don't say you must! Not with my pain, Dick! Not with my pain!" Her voice rose in a cry, broke into a sob, but still she held him with her eyes.

"Do you say I must?" he answered in a hoarse tone. "I love you with all my heart."

"Oh, don't Dick, dear," she pleaded, "don't say it!"

"Yes, I will," he said, recovering his voice, "because it's true.

And I'm glad it's true. I'm glad that I can at last let myself love you. It was only last night when Barney told me about Iola, you know."