Dawn was going over sadly all their bright beautiful day together, and thinking, wondering, how near it was to the end, and whether she would ever see this dear companion again. She treasured every moment of his company, even when they were silent together; every glance, every syllable, yes, every kiss and gentle touch of his hand; even while she dimly perceived (and chided herself) that this was not the right attitude for a bride of a few hours to have toward a man who was not her husband. But to her it was like stolen sunshine to a lifetime prisoner. She felt she must take it, as it would never pass her way again. All the same, her conscience was beginning to trouble her, for she was naturally a right-minded girl, and, in spite of the fact that her ideals of married life were not as some girls’, she had her own ideas of what should be. She turned toward him suddenly: "I want to tell you how much I thank you for this beautiful day," she said, her heart in her eyes. "It is the best day I ever had—I mean our part of it. I was afraid I might not have another chance to tell you." The dusk was growing deeper now, and dim lights ahead showed that a town was not far away. Charles reached out his hand and took hers gently in his own, hiding them both under his coat on the seat between them. The driver was looking the other way, hunting for his big tin horn, wherewith to announce his approach somewhere, and had not seen. "Dear! You dear!" Charles murmured softly in her ear. "But there’ll be plenty of chances to tell me everything soon now." "Oh, will there?" she said joyfully. "I was afraid there wouldn’t be." "Did you think we were going to spend our days in a coach?" he laughed. Dawn’s hand trembled in the big, comforting grasp, and longed to settle down and take strength from it; but she knew she ought to put a stop to this, and she sat shrinking and pondering how to draw away her hand without offending her kind friend, who, in spite of his frank, true eyes, seemed not to have a thought but that the course he was pursuing was perfectly right and proper. It all puzzled her, more and more as she felt the approach of the moment when she must meet her unwelcome bridegroom. A long blast on the driver’s horn sent a startled shock through her slender frame, and instantly Charles’s grasp on the little, timid hand tightened, as if he would enfold her in his greater strength and soothe her fears. She was glad it was dark, for she was sure there were tears in her eyes; yet she dared not lift her other hand to wipe them away, lest he see her.