“I shall never go back to her. We settled that last night,” he said, and then added, quickly: “Gertie, I am not one who gives up easily, and I shall not give you up. My father himself shall remove the bar; only tell me, Gertie, truly, do you love me, and if it were not for the promise, would you be my wife?” Oh, what a depth of love and tenderness there was in the streaming eyes lifted to Godfrey’s face, as Gertie answered him so sadly: “I am afraid I would.” “Then you shall be,” Godfrey said. “I will see my father, this very night and tell him the whole story, and get him to remove the interdict, and when I have his consent I shall come straight here to you. Don’t go home to-day, Gertie. Stay with Ettie another night, and wait here for me till the moon is up, and then if I do not come you may know father has goaded me to such lengths that in my desperation I have thrown myself into the river!” He spoke lightly, and tried to laugh, but there was a load on his heart, a feeling that the interview with his father might be a stormy one, but he was ready to encounter any difficulty for Gertie’s sake, and esteemed no trial too great if in the end it brought her to his arms. It was useless, he knew, to think of winning her so long as that promise to his father stood in the way, and so that was the barrier to be broken down; but in his passion and blindness he had little fear that he should fail. Gertie was the same as his, and he told her so, and stooped to kiss her lips at parting. But she drew back from him, and said: “No, Godfrey, I am not your promised wife, and never shall be. Your father will not consent.” She knew Colonel Schuyler better than Godfrey did, and her heart was very heavy, as she watched him going from her, his face beaming with hope as he looked back to say: “Wait for me here, Gertie, when the moon comes over the hills.” I saw that something had agitated her when she returned to the house, and laying her head on my shoulder, said, “Tell me about it if you like;” and then she told me all, and how hopeless it was for Godfrey to think his father would consent to his marriage with a poor girl like her. And though I felt that she spoke truly, I tried to encourage her, telling her that Godfrey was not one to stop at any obstacle which could be surmounted. Later in the day Edith drove round in her phaeton to take Gertie home, but I begged to keep her another night, while Gertie, too, expressed a desire to stay, and so Edith went back without her, never suspecting the reason which Gertie had for staying with me that night. CHAPTER XLV. ROBERT MACPHERSON AND COL. SCHUYLER.