Without a word Jem placed her hand on his arm, and piloted her out from among the crowd that was lingering around the door. "Don't you be afeard," he said quietly, "I've learnt my lesson. I'm not worthy to black your boots; I know that well enough by this time. But I'm going to take care of you for all that." "Jem dear," murmured Meg, while the tears filled her eyes, "Jem dear." It was all she could say; words had deserted her. The sight of the bright blue eyes that had met hers, had unnerved her completely, and the wonderful feeling of being cared for again, and protected, robbed her of ordinary powers of speech. "Just tell me where to take you," he said again, "and I'll see you safe home. I'm here to take care of you, not to worry you." "Jem!" "I see you're a bit upset. Don't try to talk. I don't want no words. It's done me a sight of good just to know you're on the earth still and to have heard you sing again. But tell me where to take you." "Jem, let me speak. I'm just ashamed." "Ashamed? You've no call to be. There's them that think a lot of you and they wouldn't do that if there was ought to be ashamed of. But you ain't the one for me that's what it was. Don't you now go and talk ill of yourself. I was a bold fool to think for a moment that I'd got any right to you, or could be anything more than one just to take care of you. You were only an ignorant girl when you gave me that promise on the heath, mind that Meg, and I was a brute to think of keeping you to it. No, don't try to talk. You're upset and I don't want to frighten you again. Just tell me though, are we going the right way?" But what did it matter to Meg what way they were going. Jem was with her. "Oh, Jem, if you'd just listen and let me tell you how sorry I am, and how I'd like to cut that day of the concert right out of my life." "Out of your life! Why it did me a sight of good. It just brought me to my senses. How I could ever have thought of it I can't tell. Are we going right?" They had been walking fast and far; quite unconscious of the direction in which they were tending. It was raining, and neither Meg nor Jem had an umbrella; but love was warming their hearts, and they were unconscious of the wetting they were getting. Love when at its height takes small heed of such matters. "Yes," said Meg with a soft laugh, "any way is right to-night. You're just wonderful, Jem." Then it suddenly struck Jem that he was scarcely acting the part of protector, as he felt the cold rain beating about his face. "I must take you home," he said with determination in his voice. "It would be poor love on my part if I let you catch cold the first time we've met. But tell me where to go."