She nodded and passed on, not daring to raise her eyes, her face flaming suddenly into shame, and the color leaving it again, gave her a deeper pallor; and so he had to be content with that.

All day he was fidgety and ill at ease, torn by a thousand dreads, and consumed by anxiety, waiting impatiently for the evening, and puzzling over what could be the matter.  He felt that for one moment of mad indiscretion, when allowing himself to be cast adrift upon the sea of passion, the frail bark of his life had set out upon an adventure from which he could not now turn back.  He was out upon the great ocean current of circumstances, where everything was unknown and uncharted, so far as he was concerned.  What rocks lay in his track, he did not know; but his heart guessed, and sought in many ways of finding a course that would bring his voyage to an end in the haven of comfort and respectability.  Respectability was his god, as he knew it was the god of his parents.  Money might save him; but there was something repugnant in the thought of leaving the whole burden of disgrace upon Mysie.  For, after all, the fault was wholly his, and it was his duty to face the consequences.  Still if a way could be found of getting over it in an easy way it would be better.  But he would leave that till the evening when he had learned from Mysie, whether his fears were correct or not, and then a way might be found out of the difficulty.

But the day seemed long in passing, and by the time the clock chimed nine he was in a fever of excitement, and pained and ill with dread.

Yet he was late when it came the hour, and Mysie was there first and had already met Robert before he reached the grove.

When Robert had gone away, and she sat crying upon the moor, she felt indeed as if the whole world was slipping from her and that her life was finished.  Only ruin, black, unutterable, stared her in the face.  Oh, if only Robert had spoken sooner, she thought.  If only that terrible beautiful night with its moonlight witchery had not been lived as it had been!  If only something had intervened to prevent what had happened!  And she sobbed in her despair, knowing what was before her and learning all too late, that Robert was the man she loved and wanted.

Then when her passionate grief had spent itself, she rose as she saw Peter coming hurriedly to meet her.

“What is the matter, Mysie?” he asked with real concern in his voice, noting the tear-stained face and her over-wrought condition.  “What is it, Mysie?”

But Mysie did not answer just then, and they both turned and passed into the grove, walking separately, as if afraid of each other’s touch, and something repellent keeping them apart.

They sat down, carefully avoiding the place where they had sat on that other fateful occasion, nearly a month before, and a long silence elapsed before words were again spoken.

“Now, Mysie,” said Peter at last breaking the silence, and bracing himself to hear unpleasant news, “I want to know what is wrong.  What is the matter?” and he feared to hear her tell her trouble.