He also started to speak, but there was nothing to say, and with her hand in one of his they sat still and silent till the cab stopped at the gate of the cottage. The driver opened the door and John helped Tilly out. He tipped the man, and he drove away as they entered the gate. John opened the door and lighted the gas in the diminutive hall. Tilly had never seen a gas-jet before, and he explained its use, and the danger of leaving it open when unlighted. From the little hall they went into the parlor, then into the dining-room and kitchen, and thence to the bedroom. "Sam's wife has swept and cleaned the whole house," John said, appreciatively. "It is as clean as a new pin." "I knew some good housekeeper had been over it," Tilly said, giving free vent to her delight over everything. "I didn't dream, from what you said, that it would be as nice as this," she declared. "Why, it is simply wonderful! But you say you think Mrs. Cavanaugh looked after it. Then--then you don't think that your mother--" She hesitated, and with a faint shadow in her face she broke off and stood looking at the floor. "No." There was a companion shadow on his face as he answered, rather lamely, she thought. "She'd never think of it--even if--if she was expecting us." "Not expecting us?" Tilly said, gropingly. "Then she doesn't know. You didn't write to her that we were to be married?" "No"--John's glance wavered as he slowly released the word--"I didn't write her. I didn't care whether she knew it or not." "I think I understand now," Tilly said to herself. "They have had some sort of family disagreement and are not on speaking terms." "Never mind," she said, aloud, seeing a cloud on his face. "All that will come out right. In time I'll win her love--you see if I don't." His frown deepened, but he said nothing. Their bags had been left in the little hall, and he went to get them. When he returned she was standing before the wide mirror of the new-fashioned bureau. She had taken off her hat and the elevated gas-jet on the wall threw a blaze of light into her beautiful hair. He put down the bags and stood gazing at her with eyes full of timid reverence and worship. "Poor, dear little Tilly!" he said, almost huskily. "You look so lonely, here just with me like this, away from your home and friends. I am not worthy of you, little girl--no man is. I feel that. I know it down deep inside of me. Until I met you I never knew what a good, pure girl was like. Oh, you are so different from all the women I've ever known. Somehow you seem to have dropped down from the skies." She didn't fully understand him. How could she? And yet his look and tone went straight to her heart. She stood staring at him for a moment and then she advanced to him. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked up into his eyes.