“For myself?” his anger leaped out again, and he steadied himself against the gate. “For myself I'll go as far as I can from this damned place. I wish to God I'd fallen in the road before I came here. I wish I'd gone after my father and followed in his steps. I'll live on no man's charity, so help me God. Am I a dog to be kicked out and to go whining back when the door opens? Go--I'll go to the devil, and be glad of it!” For a moment Betty did not answer. Her hands were clasped on her bosom, and her eyes were dark and bright in the pallor of her face. As he looked at her the rage died out of his voice, and it quivered with a deeper feeling. “My dear, my dearest, are you, too, against me?” he asked. She met his gaze without flinching, but the bright colour swept suddenly to her cheeks and dyed them crimson. “Then if you will go, take me with you,” she said. He fell back as if a star had dropped at his feet. For a breathless instant she saw only his eyes, and they drew her step by step. Then he opened his arms and she went straight into them. “Betty, Betty,” he said in a whisper, and kissed her lips. She put her hands upon his shoulders, and stood with his arms about her, looking up into his face. “Take me with you--oh, take me with you,” she entreated. “I can't be left. Take me with you.” “And you love me--Betty, do you love me?” “I have loved you all my life--all my life,” she answered; “how can I begin to unlove you now--now when it is too late? Do you think I am any the less yours if you throw me away? If you break my heart can I help its still loving you?” “Betty, Betty,” he said again, and his voice quivered. “Take me with you,” she repeated passionately, saying it over and over again with her lips upon his arm. He stooped and kissed her almost roughly, and then put her gently away from him. “It is the way my mother went,” he said, “and God help me, I am my father's son. I am afraid,--afraid--do you know what that means?” “But I am not afraid,” answered the girl steadily. He shivered and turned away; then he came back and knelt down to kiss her skirt. “No, I can't take you with me,” he went on rapidly, “but if I live to be a man I shall come back--I _will_ come back--and you--” “And I am waiting,” she replied. He opened the gate and passed out into the road. “I will come back, beloved,” he said again, and went on into the darkness. Leaning over the gate she strained her eyes into the shadows, crying his name out into the night. Her voice broke and she hid her face in her arm; then, fearing to lose the last glimpse of him, she looked up quickly and sobbed to him to come back for a moment--but for a moment. It seemed to her, clinging there upon the gate, that when he went out into the darkness he had gone forever--that the thud of his footsteps in the dust was the last sound that would ever come from him to her ears.