Nearer and nearer—­the big woods....  She was thinking of a wonderful little path ahead.  She had never ventured in alone, a deep, leafy footpath, soft with moss and fern-embroidered....  There was no one on the road ahead, nor behind; only young corn in the sloping field on the left, and now the big woods closed in on the right, and Beth reined a little.

There was no shade upon the highway, even with the wood at hand.  The horses were trampling their own shadows in this zenith hour....  She watched his eye quicken as he noted the little path.

“Ah—­let’s go in!” he called, pulling up.

It was her thought.  “I’ve always wanted to, but never dared, alone,” she panted, bringing Clarendon down.

Bedient dismounted, pulled the reins over the mare’s head and through his arm; then held up both hands to her....  Something made her hesitate a second.  He did not seem to consider her faltering.

“Oh, Beth, why should we rush in there, as if we were afraid of the light?...  Come!”

She knew by his eyes what would happen; and yet she leaned forward, until his hands fitted under her arms, and her eyelids dropped against the blinding light....

“It had to be in the great sunlight—­that!....  How glorious you are!”

“Please ... put me down!”

But again, he kissed her mouth, and the shut eyelids.  And when her feet at last touched the earth, he caught her up again, because her figure swayed a little,—­and laughed and kissed her—­until the fainting passed....

* * * * *

“...  And—­these—­were—­the—­great—­things—­you asked permission to tell me?” she said slowly, without raising her eyes.

The strange smile on her scarlet lips, and the lustrous pallor of her face, so wonderfully prevailed, that he caught her in his arms again.  And they were quite alone in that mighty light, as if they had penetrated dragons-deep in an enchanted forest.

“I cannot help it.  You are stronger!” she said in the same trailing, faery tone....  “And that distance—­between us—­that you always felt—­in ’the cycle of Cathay’—­you seem to have overcome that——­”

“It was another century——­”

“Oh——­”

“And now to explore the wood!”

“But the horses, sir—­”

“They will stand.”

...  She would not let him help, but loosened Clarendon’s bridle, and slipping out the bit, put the head-straps back.  Bedient shook his head.

“It may slide askew that way, and worry him more than if the bit were in,” he said.

“If you command, I shall put it back.”

“Let me.”

“No.”

Smiling, he watched her.  The frail left hand parted the huge foamy jaws, and held them apart—­thumb and little finger—­while the other hand, behind Clarendon’s ears, drew the bit home.  The big fellow decently bowed his head to take the steel from her.  Then she patted the mouse-colored muzzle, and gave the reins to the man, who, much marvelling, tethered the two horses together.