This time he held it fast. It seemed to him that he was doing something that would call down on him swift rebuke and angry reproach. He expected to have the hand snatched from him. Then, with wonder and a glow of rapturous delight, he felt it lie passive in his. He realised that he was being swept beyond his self-control; that his desire for the girl beside him was stronger than his reason. He yielded to an impulse of sheer passion, clasped Una in his arms, and kissed her face. Again and again he kissed her. He felt her arms tighten round him, knew that she was clinging to him. Then suddenly he let her go and stood back from her, terror-stricken. “Oh, Una, what have I done? I am mad.” She stood before him, her face covered with her hands. “Una, speak to me. Can you ever forgive me? My love made me mad.” She raised her face and looked at him. In the dim moonlight he saw in her eyes a look of wonderful tenderness. He realised without a word from her that she loved him, too. “Una--I ought never--I was wrong. But I love you more than my life. Una, you are too far above me. You are a great man’s daughter. How did I dare?” She came close to him and spoke. “There is no above or below, Neal, when we love each other. How can I be far above the man who loves me?” “But there is no hope for us, none at all anywhere. Even to-morrow I may have to go--Una, I may have to fight----” “Whatever comes, Neal, I know that you will be brave and good. Be brave and good, dear Neal, and then God will give us our hearts’ desire. I am not afraid of the future. Why should you be afraid? If you do what is right and honourable what is there to fear? God is good.” They walked together to the house. Then Neal turned and went home. The future, so far as he could see into it, was dark enough. His love seemed utterly hopeless, yet his heart was full of unspeakable joy. He knew, beyond all possibility of doubt, that Una loved him and would love him whatever happened. Her strangely simple faith seemed to make all things plain before him. Una loved him and God was good. It was enough. CHAPTER V When Neal arrived at the Manse he found that the sentries who had stood on guard at the door were gone. The yeomen had disappeared from before the meeting-house. The broken door, the fragments of the wrecked pulpit, and the figure of the dead trooper swinging from the branch on which he had been hanged were left as witnesses of the Government’s methods of keeping the peace in Ireland. Inside the house Micah Ward paced restlessly up and down the floor of his study. Donald, his pipe in his mouth, sat on a chair tilted back till its front legs were six inches off the floor, and watched his brother. His attitude was precarious, but he seemed comfortable. Micah paused in his rapid walking as Neal entered the room. “What have you been doing, Neal?” he said. “Your face is cut, your clothes are torn; you look strangely excited.”