More magical, and still more magical, the gloaming deepened over the patient fields. Sharprise Hill was a clear-cut wedge of purple now, pointing up into an amber sky, and Hilda Fell showed as a dark blue, jagged line, with a tuft of crimson cloud lying over it like the tattered banner of day’s defeated armies. Low and roving wide, deep and tremulous, the curlew’s voice went round and about the pastures, telling, it seemed to-night, that two human-folk were drifting on life’s glamour-tide, telling, too, of the mysteries, the tumult, and the pains which lay ahead. They had been silent, awed by the kindred silence of the eventide, the subtle uproar of the curlews, awed by the gift that had come to each of them. On the sudden Reuben Gaunt set his arms about the girl, and drew her to him; and Cilla of the Good Intent, not knowing why, lay there and did not heed. And then again, not knowing why, she stood away, and her face was pitiful to see, because she tried to check her sobs. “Why, lile lass, you’re crying!” cried Gaunt, awakening from his happiness. At all times brave, at all times candid as the sky, Priscilla checked her tears, but not the sobs just yet. “I was never kissed before--and, Reuben--all my pride is gone.” Gaunt laughed openly. He would never learn how like a child was Cilla, how like a braver woman, too, than he deserved. “Because I ask to wed you, Cilla?” “Because the old life is gone, and I fear the new one. I was never one to fear--yet now--Reuben, you’ll be kind and true? I can never give my heart at twice.” “Don’t ask you to, lile lass,” he answered cheerily. “Once is good enough for me, seeing you’ve chosen Reuben Gaunt.” Another silence fell on them, broken only by the low complaining of the curlews. Then Cilla, smiling and sobbing both, looked Reuben in the face again. “It should be no time to be afraid? Tell me again ’tis happiness.” “To our lives’ end,” said Gaunt, and meant it at the moment. They were nearing the track to Good Intent, and their footsteps lagged. The Beyond, which Cilla had thought to lie out and away behind the fells, had come to Garth, it seemed, to-night; for each detail of this homely land she knew from childhood took on a warm, new aspect. This was her first love-time, and life held unsuspected melodies. “Cilla,” whispered Gaunt, “you’re making a new man of me. You--” He halted in his speech, and the girl, had she glanced at him, would have seen perplexity and helpless anger in his face; but she was looking ahead with dreamy eyes--looking so far ahead that she scarcely saw the strapping lass, limber and well-featured, who was coming up the stream-track. Gaunt had seen her, though, and was asking himself why Peggy Mathewson had chosen this one hour for a saunter up the waterside. As they drew near his anger changed to fear; for Peggy was apt to be outspoken, and might ruin with a word this new and better life which, to his fancy, opened out before him.