"Oh! but you are splendid," she whispered. "I thought perhaps you might feel you ought to stay back for me! But, Tom, everything is all right and safe! Always you are going to grow bigger, nearer, until you make me forget everything else. Why, Tom now, now I would go with you on your road, if I could! You must believe that, dear." Tom looked at her. He saw the thrill of life, adventure, and youth shake her. He saw with an old, old understanding that because he was going away, alone, upon the road, he meant to her what he never could have meant had he remained. He saw that his renunciation had awakened her sympathy and admiration, but he saw that love lay dead in her eyes. [Illustration: "Tom looked at her. He saw the thrill, of life, adventure and youth shake her. He saw with an old, old understanding that because he was going away, alone, upon the road, he meant to her what he never could have meant had he remained."] And then Tom bent and kissed her. He could in all honour because something deep in his heart told him that he was indeed bidding her good-bye. "When I come back," he was saying, while he felt far, far away, "we’ll just try the road, Donelle. I know you’ll do your part. And always keep this in mind: when I look back home I’ll see you at the other end of the road, girl. Your eyes will have the yellow light in them that will brighten the darkest night I’ll ever tramp through. I had to tell you that." "Thank you, Tom." "It wasn’t the honest thing to marry you the way I did. I had no right." "Yes, you had, Tom. Yes. Yes!" "No. I think we could have found a better way, if we had taken time, but I was sort of blinded." "And so was I, Tom, blinded and crazed." "Donelle—" "Yes, Tom." "I’ve got to tell you something—now that I’m going. He—he came back that night. He came to me and he would not believe, until I let him look in the window to see you as you lay there asleep. He wanted to tell me something, and I wouldn’t let him! But, Donelle, before God, I think we need not hate him and if he ever gets a chance let him tell you what he wanted to tell me." "Tom, oh! Tom!" Donelle was weeping now in Gavot’s arms. "Thank you, thank you, my own good Tom! And when you come back, I’ll be waiting for you, no matter what I hear." But Tom understood. Again he bent and kissed her pretty hair, her little white face, then gently pushed her toward Jo. "Mam’selle," he said and smiled his good smile: "I’m going, with heaven’s help, to make up to my mother." "You have, Tom, you have!" Jo rushed to him. "You have by your clean, fine life and they have no right to take that young life; they have no right, no right!"