Again he soothed her with caresses and whispered, "But, sweetheart, you know I am not going there now,--not when I can hold you like this." And she nestled in his arms at last in quiet happiness. Finally she lifted her head and smiled up at him. He turned her face up to the moon's full light and looked longingly into it. "Nancy, do you love me?" he said. "Oh, Steve, I've always loved you, I think," she softly replied. "And it never was Raymond?" he went on insistently, his voice taking on a resonant ring. "Not in the least," she returned. Then smiling demurely at him she said, "Oh, Steve, you weren't nearly so stupid in learning your letters!" And he punished her with kisses. "Do you remember," he said at last tenderly, looking over at the Greely wood, "that you asked me when a little girl to build a house for you and me over there where we might live always?" "Yes," she said with a touch of sweet reluctance, "I confess I have always remembered that childish speech,--with an intuitive knowledge that I shouldn't have made it, I suppose." "While I have always treasured it consciously or unconsciously," he returned, with eager joy creeping into the tenderness of his voice. "You were a blessed little prophetess, for it is here under the shadow of the old wood that love has at last built for us the fairest, holiest structure earth ever knew." Then they remembered the hour of the night and the anxiety of her father and mother, and started back down the road, Nancy saying she would like to walk a little and Steve leading Gyp, who had been unconcernedly grazing by the roadside. After a time the lover went on again joyously: "We have equal right to one another now, have we not, sweetheart, for if I saved you from possible death at the moment of our meeting, you have probably saved me from a tragic end to-night. It is the way of our mountain life," he added, his voice taking on a note of sadness; "our joy must always be mingled with tragedy until we learn the beautiful ways of peace." Then he stopped again and turned her face up to the moonlight once more. "Will you be content, dearest, to help me in the work I have chosen,--it will probably mean sacrifice,--the giving up of your ambitions." She smiled back with a low, "More than content, if I may be always with you." * * * * * The next day Steve met Raymond on the street, and the latter was more serious than Steve had ever seen him. "Well, old fellow," he said with an attempt at a smile, "you've licked me again. I know all about the sale of Greely Ridge and your narrow escape last night. Those two things, I admit, show me I am a good deal of a fool, and something of a cad as I used to be. I want you to know that the business with the moonshiners is all off. The other victory you've won over me I can't talk about. I acknowledge you deserve her though, more than I do, and I wish you luck."