“Wh-wh-whut’ll I say? Whut’ll I do, to thank you, ma’am? I—I—I’ll just tell you this. It’s me for the straight-and-narrow from now on. And if ever you or Professor Kent or any of you want an A-1, special charted, extra-celestial star-reading for self or friends, you—you—you c-c-c-come—” He made a rush for the hallway, and the door banged a period to his emotion. “I think,” said Chester Kent gravely, “that lesson will last.” As Marjorie Blair stood smiling, soft-eyed, at the door whence the overcome Star-master had disappeared, Sedgwick started to pass. With quick and unexpected tact, Alexander Blair drew the sheriff and the lawyer aside, giving to the young people their moment. She looked up at Sedgwick with lifted eyebrows. “Are you not going to speak to me?” she said sorrowfully. “What is there to say, except one thing—and that I may not say now.” “No, no!” she whispered, in affright. “But say you forgive me.” “You! For what?” “For having believed, even for an instant, what Father Blair said, that you were the murderer.” Sedgwick smiled bravely. “That is all past.” “And you’ll think of me at least kindly?” “I’ll think of you with every beat of my heart,” he said passionately. Across her face passed the look of fairy wistfulness that was all her own. “No,” she said, “it would be better—for both of us—that you should forget, for the time.” He leaned over her: “‘What shall assuage the unforgotten pain And teach the unforgetful to forget?’” he quoted very low. “And yet,” she persisted, “it would be easier, now that I am going away.” “Going away! For long?” She nodded with compressed lips. Sedgwick turned very white. “Oh, don’t look like that!” she faltered. “I can’t bear it! Can’t you see that, after what has happened, I must go? I must have time to forget. There is so much to forget! Surely you can be patient—and trust.” Again he smiled at her, with a courage shining through his pain that brought the quick tears to her eyes. “Yes. I can wait and trust—and love.” Again he leaned to her: “‘And think how she, far from me, with like eyes Sees, through the untuneful bough the wingless skies.’” He drew her gaze to his own, held it for the space of a heart-beat, and was gone. CHAPTER XXI—REWARDS