"Then we shall take it"--he lifted her hand to his lips--"as the award of life, and guard it. It needs guarding. In any world its hold is insecure." Presently she again looked up and smoothed her hair. "But, John"-- she shook her head doubtfully--"I shall be such a shock to your friends. I want, don't you see, to be free, to do what I want to do, not what I should be a code of custom. The Martha of me would break forth when most she should be quiet, and keep you always uneasy. I never know what Martha is going to say to do." "That's why I love Martha! It's so wearing to always know what a person is going to say and do. If you were just all Mary--" He laughed, measuring her hand against his and looking carefully at its third finger. "You'll be a joy, my Mary Martha, and the more shocks you give the better for us." He took out a note-book and opened it. "What day is this? Saturday--let me see. Thanksgiving is on the twenty-sixth. You will want to be here, I suppose?" "I certainly will!" She sat suddenly upright. "And you want to be back for Christmas?" "I certainly do. What are you talking about?" Her face crimsoned. "You don't suppose I'm really going--" "I don't suppose anything about it. The matter is no longer in your hands. Three weeks from to-day will be the second of December. That will give us time, say, for a bit of Bermuda and back here for the holidays. Mary Cary"--he took her hands in his--"three weeks from to-day you are to marry me." "But Miss Gibbie! We can't leave her here by herself. Couldn't she go, too? She'd love Bermuda. Don't you think, John, she could go, too?" "I think not!" John's nod was decisive. "I prefer taking this trip with just my wife." Mary leaned back on the sofa as if swept by a sudden realization. "I don't know what we've been thinking about. To go away and leave Miss Gibbie like this would--" "Make her indeed and in truth the friend of Yorkburg. To win its love she must give more than money. You have done much for her, opened her eyes to much, and she is beginning to understand. She has had a hard fight. To conquer herself, to give you up has meant--" "Oh, John, John!" With a half-sob her hands went out to him. "For us the days ahead seem glad and beautiful. For her--To leave her, to leave my people, my little orphans, would be more than selfish. I can't, John, I can't!" He bent over and gathered her close to his heart, laughed unsteadily in the face he lifted to his. "You have no choice, my dear. You are mine now. Forever mine!" Chapter XXVII A TIE THAT BINDS Before the fire in Miss Gibbie's sitting-room Mrs. McDougal held up her left foot to the crackling coals and watched the steam curl away from the wet sole of her shoe with beaming satisfaction. Her skirt, wet around the hem, was drawn up to her knees, her coat, well sprinkled, was on the back of a chair, and in her lap her hat lay limp and spiritless.