“It’s something I can’t understand. It’s something that keeps my father up all night, walking his room. And yet, when I go to him, it’s to always find him strangely exalted.” “Politics,” he belittled. “What has that to do with our love?” She lifted her head and revealed eyes round with fear and warned: “But it does! It concerns our happiness deeply. Not that he has said anything. Not that his love for me ever changes—” “Good Lord! Love for you—change?” he gasped. “I say it hasn’t, you silly. But after the messenger came and we were riding home, he asked me if I would make a sacrifice for him. He didn’t say what but gave me to understand it would be only for a short time. Now I’ll make any sacrifice for my father, only—” She persisted in her silence, and he gravely prompted— “Go on, sweetheart.” “Only I must know it will help him.” “Tell me what he asked you to do and let me be the judge.” “He’s asked nothing as yet. I think he plans to tell me tonight. He said something about my understanding everything tonight. Since then he’s been in his room, whistling and singing. Never in my life have I heard him whistle or sing before. And, do you know, he has a beautiful voice—and I never knew it before.” “When a man can sing and whistle, he can’t be planning to ask much of a sacrifice of his daughter.” “Oh, I’m not fearing what he may ask. He’s been a good father to me. I must be perfectly loyal to him in my heart. I only wish he didn’t have men come to see him—that is, certain kind of men.” She gave him an odd look, then, forgetting the house was hidden by the trees, she gazed over his shoulder. He was quick to detect the glint of alarm in her eyes and asked— “Who’s with him now?” “Nay, you must not ask me. That would mean I was spying on him. Doubtless I’m very silly. I shall know all tonight. Tomorrow, if we should meet alone, I’ll perhaps be able to tell you.” “We certainly shall meet alone,” he promised. “But why wait till tomorrow? Why not this afternoon or tonight? I sha’n’t sleep a wink if I have to wait till tomorrow. Why not here?” “Oh, I couldn’t, Kirk,” she protested. In the next breath she filled him with ecstasy by declaring, “And yet I will if possible. Tonight—come when the moon is clearing the forest, two hours before midnight. He always goes to his room at that hour. I shall be here on the hour and will wait for you, but you mustn’t wait for me. I shall come promptly or not at all.” “But if I come and you’re not here—” he began complaining. “Hush, silly. I’ll leave a note on this very log. Don’t wait if I’m not here. Don’t wait if the note is not here. It will simply mean I couldn’t leave the house without disturbing him.” “Why couldn’t I call at the house?” “Oh, no! Not at the house,” she hurriedly cried. “Promise?” “Very well. I’ll come as far as this arbour.” “Now, don’t be ugly. Some time you can come to a house and know you’ll always find me—” “You darling!” he softly exulted.