They kissed passionately, carried away by their excitement, brimming with joy at their agreement in feeling and desire.  The cabin seemed to expand into the virgin forest and the open plain.  A new vision of life was opened to Jenny.  Exultingly she pictured the future, bright, active, occupied—­away from all the old cramping things.  It was the life she had dreamed, away from men, away from stuffy rooms and endless millinery, away from regular hours and tedious meals, away from all that now made up her daily dullness.  It was splendid!  Her quick mind was at work, seeing, arranging, imagining as warm as life the changed days that would come in such a terrestrial Paradise.  And then Keith, watching with triumph the mounting joy in her expression, saw the joy subside, the brilliance fade, the eagerness give place to doubt and then to dismay.

“What is it?” he begged.  “Jenny, dear!”

“It’s Pa!” Jenny said.  “I couldn’t leave him ... not for anything!”

“Is that all?  We’ll take him with us!” cried Keith.  Jenny sorrowfully shook her head.

“No.  He’s paralysed,” she explained, and sighed deeply at the faded vision.

iii

“Well, I’m not going to give up the idea for that,” Keith resumed, after a moment.  Jenny shook her head, and a wry smile stole into her face, making it appear thinner than before.

“I didn’t expect you would,” she said quietly.  “It’s me that has to give it up.”

“Jenny!” He was astonished by her tone.  “D’you think I meant that?  Never!  We’ll manage something.  Something can be done.  When I come back ...”

“Ah, you’re going away!” Jenny cried in agony.  “I shan’t see you.  I shall have every day to think of ... day after day.  And you won’t write.  And I shan’t see you....”  She held him to her, her breast against his, desperate with the dread of being separated from him.  “It’s easy for you, at sea, with the wind and the sun; and something fresh to see, and something happening all the time.  But me—­in a dark room, poring over bits of straw and velvet to make hats for soppy women, and then going home to old Em and stew for dinner.  There’s not much fun in it, Keith....  No, I didn’t mean to worry you by grizzling.  It’s too bad of me!  But seeing you, and hearing that plan, it’s made me remember how beastly I felt before your letter came this evening.  I was nearly mad with it.  I’d been mad before; but never as bad as this was.  And then your letter came—­and I wanted to come to you; and I came, and we’ve wasted such a lot of time not understanding each other.  Even now, I can’t be sure you love me—­not sure! I think you do; but you only say so.  How’s anyone ever to be sure, unless they know it in their bones?  And I’ve been thinking about you every minute since we met.  Because I never met anybody like you, or loved anybody before...”

She broke off, her voice trembling, her face against his, breathless and exhausted.