They were standing at the Culpepper gate as he spoke. A light in the upper windows showed that the parents were in. Buchanan came ambling along the walk and went through the gate between them without speaking. When he had closed the door, the girl came close to her lover. He took her in his arms, and cried, "Oh, darling,--only four more days together." He paused, and in the starlight she saw on his face more than words could have told her of his love for her. He was a silent youth; the spoken word came haltingly to his lips, and as often happens, words were superfluous to him in his moments of great emotion. He put her hands to his lips, and moaned, for the hour of parting seemed to be hurrying down upon him. Finally his tongue found liberty. "Oh, sweetheart--sweetheart," he cried, "always remember that you are bound in my soul with the iron of youth's first love--my only love. Oh, I never could again, dear,--only you--only you. After this it would be a sacrilege." They stood silent in the joy of their ecstacy for a long minute, then he asked gently: "Do you understand, Molly,--do you understand? this is forever for us, Molly,--forever. When one loves as we love--with our childhood and youth welded into it all--whom God hath joined--" he stammered; "oh, Molly, whom God hath joined," he whispered, and his voice trembled as he sighed again, and kissed her, "whom God hath joined. Oh, God--God, God!" cried the lover, as he closed his eyes with his lips against her hair. The restless horses recalled the lovers to the earth. It was Molly who spoke. "Bob--Bob--I can't let you go!" Molly Culpepper had no reserves with her lover. She went on whispering, with, her face against his heart: "Bob--Bob, big boy, I am going to tell you something truthy true, that I never breathed to any one. At night--to-night, in just a few minutes--when I go up to my room--all alone--I get your picture and hold it to me close, and holding it right next to my very heart, Bob, I pray for you." She paused a moment, and then continued, "Oh, and--I pray for us--Bob--I pray for us." Then she ran up the stone walk, and on the steps she turned to throw kisses at him, but he did not move until he heard the lock click in the front door. At the livery-stable he found Watts McHurdie bending over some break in his buggy. They walked up the street together. At the corner where they were about to part the little man said, as he looked into the rapturous face of the lanky boy, "Well, Bob,--it's good-by, John, for you, I suppose?" "Oh--I don't know," replied the other from his enchanted world and then asked absently, "Why?"