He gazed up at the scudding clouds and his troubled soul grew quiet. CHAPTER X The Palace Ben, taking an occasional look around at his passenger, flew directly on toward a landing-field. Their destination had hardly yet interested Geraldine. The whole experience, in spite of the noise of the motor, seemed as yet unreal to her. In reaction from the frightful nightmare of the last few days, her whole being responded to the flight through the bright spring air, and had Ben seen fit to do a figure eight she would have accepted it as part of the reckless joyousness of the present dream. As the plane began to descend and objects below came into view, she wondered for the first time where the great bird was coming to earth. Perhaps Miss Upton's ample and blessed figure would be waiting to greet her. Nothing, nothing was too good to be true. The plane touched earth and flitted along to a standstill. They were in a field, just now deserted, and her escort, pushing back his helmet, smiled upon her radiantly. "First time you've ever flown?" he asked. "Yes, except in dreams," she answered. "This seems only one more." "Were they happy dreams?" "None so happy as this." "You weren't afraid, then? You're a good sport." "I think I shall never be afraid again. I've sounded the depths of fear in the last week." The two sat looking into one another's eyes and the appeal in those long-lashed orbs of Geraldine continued the havoc that they had begun. Her lips were very grave as she recalled the precipice from which she had been snatched. "I saw that he frightened you terribly that day he gave me such a warm welcome." "He was going to marry me," explained Geraldine simply. "How could he--the old ogre?" "I was to consent in order to save my father's name. I'm going to tell you about it because you're a lawyer, aren't you, and the finest man in the world? I have it here." Geraldine loosened her coat and felt inside her white blouse for Miss Upton's letter. Ben laughed and blushed to his ears. "I haven't attained the former yet. The latter, of course, I can't deny." Geraldine produced the letter, inside of which was folded that from her father. "Miss Upton wrote me about you and--" "You're not going to show it to me," interrupted Ben hastily. "I'm afraid the dear woman spread it on too thick for the victim to view." "You see, she knew how I hate men," explained Geraldine, "and she knew how friendless I was and she wanted me to trust you." "And do you?" asked Ben with ardor. "Yes, perfectly. I have to, you know." She tucked back the rejected letter in its hiding-place. "And you're not going to hate me?" "I should think not," returned the girl with the same simple gravity; "not when you've done me the greatest kindness of my whole life!" "I'm so glad I haven't named the plane yet," said Ben impulsively. "You shall name it."