With this Emily quietly withdrew her hand and sitting still wondered if Ambrose had even heard her, for he did not speak at first, yet when turning he looked at her, the light of the fire making his face quite clear, the girl's eyes filled with tears. "Has it been so bad as that?" she whispered. Ambrose nodded. "I ain't ever goin' to be able to tell you how I love you, honey, but it seems like everything that has gone before in my life and is comin' after is done made up fer by to-night." Then after a little, when they had talked for a while and been silent a while longer, Emily put her head down on Ambrose's shoulder so that he might not see her face. "I am thinking about Sarah; every woman thinks about the other woman some time," she confessed. "Little Sarah?" Ambrose waited. "Was you wantin' me to say I didn't love her, honey? 'cause I can't. Would it 'a' been fairer to you, I wonder, ef I hadn't had a heart big enough fer lovin' some one before ever I set eyes on you? Sarah was young and needed me, and I reckon I loved her all I was able to _then_, but there wasn't so much of me to love her with as there is now. You see, Em'ly darlin', the dark waters has sort 'er passed over me, and I ain't in my springtime no more. Then lovin' and losin' does learn us a lot: but I ain't never goin' to care fer nobody as I do fer you, 'cause nobody else'll ever understand me and match up to me same as you do." But here Ambrose, sighing, pushed back his faded straw-coloured hair with the old puzzled gesture. "Still, honey, ef anything ever happens, I feel just obleeged to tell you, I reckon I'm the kind that plumb couldn't live on this earth without lovin' some one." For a troubled instant Emily hesitated, and then with a sympathy so perfect that it was to last for ever and ever, and with another understanding laugh, she lifted up her head and kissed her truthful lover. So that by and by when the fire in the woods back of them had died down they were both so happy that they neither saw nor heard the figure in the papaw grove stealing along a few yards to one side of them, though in the darkness of the tangled thicket it stumbled several times and for want of a helping arm limped painfully along. Nevertheless five minutes later Ambrose and Emily both jumped hurriedly to their feet. For unexpectedly there sounded a noise as of many persons approaching the log cabin along the route which Ambrose had just taken. In another moment a procession came into sight and at the head and front walked Mrs. Barrows in her best purple linsey petticoat and scoop bonnet and carrying a basket on her arm. Following her were ten, twenty, thirty or more of the leading citizens of Pennyroyal, male and female, attired in their Sunday clothes and bearing packages. "It's some kind of a forgiveness party," Ambrose whispered nervously; "seems like I'd better hide," and once again he attempted to flatten his thin body against the wall of the cabin.