“You may be. For Papa is a man of such intense likes and dislikes. The first thing that made my heart flutter with fear was that he might not like you. He loves me intensely. And I love him devotedly. I could not marry without his consent. You are so entirely different from any other beau I ever had, I couldn’t imagine what Papa would think of you. You wear such a serious face, never go into society, care nothing for fine clothes, and are so careless that you even hung your feet out of the buggy that first day I took you to drive. I was glad to have you in the woods and not in town. The boys would have guyed me to death. In fact you are the contradiction of the average man I have known, and of all the men I thought as a girl I’d marry some day. I am so glad Papa likes you.” That evening when they reached the house, she hurried through the hall to her mother who was standing on the back porch. There was the sudden swish of a dress, a kiss, another! and another! And then the low murmur of a mother’s voice like the crooning over a baby. CHAPTER XII--THE MUSIC OF THE MILLS WHEN Gaston reached his home that night St. Clare had gone to bed. It was one o’clock. He could not sleep yet, so he sat in the window and tried to realise his great happiness, as he looked out on the green lawn with its white gravelled walk glistening in the full moon. “The world is beautiful, life is sweet, and God is good!” he cried in an ecstasy of joy. He sat there in the moonlight for an hour dreaming of his love and the great strenuous life of achievement he would live with her to inspire him. It seemed too good to be true. And yet it was the largest living fact. Like throbbing music the words were ringing in his heart keeping time with the rhythm of its beat, “I do love you!” And then he did something he had not done for years.--not since his boyhood,--he knelt in the silence of the moonlit room and prayed. Love the great Revealer had led him into the presence of God. The impulse was spontaneous and resistless. “Lord, I have seen Thy face, heard Thy voice, and felt the touch of Thy hand to-day! I bless and praise Thee! Forgive my doubts and fears and sins, cleanse and make me worthy of her whom Thou has sent as Thy messenger!” So he poured out his soul. Next morning he grasped St. Clare’s hand as he entered the room. “Bob, I’m the happiest man in the world!” “Congratulations! You look it.” “She loves me! I’d like to climb up on the top of this house and shout it until all earth and heaven could hear and be glad with me!” “Well, don’t do it, my boy. See her father first!” “She says he likes me.” “Then you’re elected.” “I’m going to tackle him before I go home.”