"I can't help what you thought! If you have any--respect for me at all, you will do what I ask." "Of course. Only I shall see you again to-night. I must." "No . . . no. Not to-night." "To-morrow then?" But she had already left him; and for his part, he must needs return the way he came,--frustrated, yet not enlightened; cursing, in no measured terms, the unfathomable ways of women. No doubt she was upset, unstrung by the knowledge of all that her confession implied; and woman-like, showed small regard for his consuming impatience to possess her. But to-morrow he would ride home with her. And after that--the Deluge! Quita left alone again went forward with lagging feet, and a heart emptied of hope. Her own disappointment crowded out all thought of Garth's unusual behaviour; till renewed steps behind her suggested the astonishing possibility that he had dared to disregard her request, and followed her, in spite of all. The suggestion roused not fear, but anger, and the militant spirit of independence that circumstances had so fostered in her. She knew now that she hated him, as we only hate those whom we have wronged. It was intolerable that he should persecute her against her wish; and she swung round sharply, with words of pitiless truth on her lips. But the night seemed marked for the unexpected:--and now it was joy incredible that fettered her tongue and her feet, while her husband hastened forward, his face clearly visible in the growing light. "I followed that fellow when he went after you," he said bluntly, anger smouldering in his tone. "And I saw him leave you. Did you send him away?" "Yes." "Why?" "I didn't want him." "Does that apply to me also?" "No . . . please stay." There fell a silence pregnant with things unutterable. Lenox came closer. "What possessed you to sing that song,--in that way--Quita?" It was the first time he had spoken her name, and she turned from him, pressing her fingers against flaming cheeks. "Oh, I am burnt up with shame! I feel as if I had told all of them." "Told them--what?" "_Mon Dieu_! Will you compel me to say everything?" She flung out both hands, and he caught and crushed them till she winced under the pressure. Then, holding her at arm's-length, he looked searchingly into her eyes. And while they stood so--in this their first instant of real union, that dwarfed the years between to a watch in the night--each was aware of the other's answering heart; and in each, love burnt with so flame-like a quality that neither speech nor touch was needed to seal the intimacy of contact. At length he drew her nearer. "Does it frighten you now when I look right into you?" he asked, an odd vibration in his voice. "No . . . no. I am only afraid you may not see deep enough." He drew a great breath. "Thank God for that. But tell me,--for I am still in the dark,--how on earth has such a miracle come to pass?" Her low laugh had a ring of inexpressible content.