“Edith!” cried the man, “Edith!”

“Of course, you can’t say it in plain English,” said the girl.  “You are far too chivalrous for that.  You needn’t say anything.  I am answered.  If you could have your choice you wouldn’t have a society wife, either.  In your heart you’d like the smaller home of comfort, the furtherance of your ambitions, the palatable meals regularly served, and little children around you.  I am sick of all we have grown up to, Hart.  When your hour of trouble comes, there is no comfort for you.  I am tired to death.  You find out what you want to do, and be, that is a man’s work in the world, and I will plan our home, with no thought save your comfort.  I’ll be the other kind of a girl, as fast as I can learn.  I can’t correct all my faults in one day, but I’ll change as rapidly as I can.”

“God knows, I will be different, too, Edith.  You shall not be the only generous one.  I will make all the rest of life worthy of you.  I will change, too!”

“Don’t you dare!” said Edith Carr, taking his head between her hands and holding it against her knees, while the tears slid down her cheeks.  “Don’t you dare change, you big-hearted, splendid lover!  I am little and selfish.  You are the very finest, just as you are!”

Henderson was not talking then, so they sat through a long silence.  At last he heard Edith draw a quick breath, and lifting his head he looked where she pointed.  Up a fern stalk climbed a curious looking object.  They watched breathlessly.  By lavender feet clung a big, pursy, lavender-splotched, yellow body.  Yellow and lavender wings began to expand and take on colour.  Every instant great beauty became more apparent.  It was one of those double-brooded freaks, which do occur on rare occasions, or merely an Eacles Imperialis moth that in the cool damp northern forest had failed to emerge in June.  Edith Carr drew back with a long, shivering breath.  Henderson caught her hands and gripped them firmly.  Steadily she looked the thought of her heart into his eyes.

“By all the powers, you shall not!” swore the man.  “You have done enough.  I will smash that thing!”

“Oh no you won’t!” cried the girl, clinging to his hands.  “I am not big enough yet, Hart, but before I leave this forest I shall have grown to breadth and strength to carry that to her.  She needs two of each kind.  Phil only sent her one!”

“Edith I can’t bear it!  That’s not demanded!  Let me take it!”

“You may go with me.  I know where the O’More cottage is.  I have been there often.”

“I’ll say you sent it!”

“You may watch me deliver it!”

“Phil may be there by now.”

“I hope he is!  I should like him to see me do one decent thing by which to remember me.”

“I tell you that is not necessary!”