"God keep me from telling her. God keep me from letting her know of my love. So it is best." "Don't you see now?" Again that phrase of his which had come back through Arsdale's lips to scorch him. All he could say aloud was, "I must go, and if I can, I will come back." "I mean nothing to you if I cannot help you now," she said steadily. "If the road were smooth to you do you think I could tell you what I have? It is your need--it is your need that has given me the strength." To himself he said, "God keep my lips sealed." To her he said, "I must go." She was startled. "You remember the orchard, Peter?" "As long as I remember anything, I shall remember that." "You remember the walk straight through things?" "Yes--you at my side." "I have just taken it again--alone. I have pressed straight through." There was a pause of a few seconds. Then, "That is a hard thing for a woman to do." There was a longer silence. Then she said tenderly, "You look very tired. This day has been heavy to you. Go up-stairs to your room and rest. Then in the morning--why, in the morning we may both see clearer." "I can rest nowhere. There is no rest left to me." "Ah, you look so tired," she repeated. He seized her hand and pressed it. Then he turned abruptly towards the hall. She watched him with a new fright. He paused at the door, his eyes drawn back to her against his will. She was standing there quite helpless, a growing pallor sweeping over her cheeks that so lately had been as richly red as rose leaves. "God help me hard now," he moaned. She stood before him like a marble statue. There were no tears. "I have been very bold," she murmured. "I can never forgive myself that." "You have been wonderful!" he cried. "Perhaps you had better go at once, Peter Donaldson," she said. He saw her in a blinding white light. "God keep you," he managed to say. "God keep you forever and ever." He stumbled to the hall, found his hat, and staggered through the door. At the hedge a shadow stole out to meet him. It was an ambitious young reporter. "Is this Mr. Donaldson?" he asked. "Damn you, no!" shouted Donaldson. "Donaldson is dead!" CHAPTER XXV _The Shadow on the Floor_