All about me was a singing darkness. Through it I heard a voice say sharply, "Look to the lassie, Bill!" and felt strong arms around me. Before I lost complete consciousness I remember putting up my hand to brush something wet from my face. Tears? Not _my_ tears. "Don't cry," I said childishly. "It hurts father to see people cry." When I woke again it was bright daylight. I was in my own room on my own bed. My husband was sitting, his hands between his knees, beside me. For a moment I stared at him. Then, as knowledge flashed through me like a terrifying tide, "Father?" I questioned, very low. "He's all right, Mavis," said Dr. Denton quietly. "The danger is past--thank God!" I put out my hand, gropingly, and he took it firmly into his. "Cry now," he said gently. "It will help." Then, in a rush, came the healing, peace-giving tears. * * * * * It was not until ten days later, when father, marvellously recuperating, sat up for the first time and demanded his "children" about him that I faced the fact that what was done could not be undone, and that I was confronted by the finality of marriage. "Well, you two," said father weakly, but with a tiny glimmer of mischief in his eyes, "it looks as if I had hurried you before the altar under false pretences. What are you going to do about it--now that I've fooled you by living?" Beneath his half-laughter, I heard a note of anxiety, of doubt. And the resolution rose up strong and compelling within me that never, as long as I lived, should father know what he had done. It was the only way in which I could pay my debt. "Play the game, Mavis," I said to myself, and smiled straight into father's eyes. Bill, sitting beside me, drew a long breath. Was it relief? I glanced at him quickly and knew that for one moment we agreed. "You old matchmaker," I said, "were you so afraid that I would never find a husband? Was it quite necessary to frighten us all to pieces in order that I should wear a wedding ring?" Father laughed. "Then," he asked, "It's all right--with you two?" I turned to Bill and saw him nod once before I spoke. "It's all right," I said, "and we're all happy." "Thank God!" said father under his breath. I could not bear the look on his face, and slipped blindly, without excuse, from the room. It was the following week that John Denton came down to be with us, and hatched his plans with father. They called us in, Bill and me, and laid their schemes before us.