“You have not forgiven me,” he murmured.

“Indeed, yes.”  She was, after all, a girl of robust good sense, and could smile bravely as she put an illusion by.  “To be loved is marvellous and seems to make all marvels possible:  but I was wrong to expect—­this one.  And if, since knowing me—­”

“You have taught me all better things.”  He knelt on the ice at her feet and began to fasten her skates.  “Let me still be your pupil and look up to you, as I am looking now.”

“Ah!” she pressed her palms together, “but that is just what I need—­ to know that we are both better for loving.  I want to be sure of that, for it makes me brave when I think of father.  While he forbids us, I cannot help doubting at times:  and then I look into myself and see that all the world is brighter, all the world is better since I knew you.  O my love, if we trust our love, and help one another!—­” Her rich voice thrilled and broke as she leaned forward and laid a hand on his forehead.

“See me at your feet,” he whispered, looking up into eyes divinely dewy.  “I am yours to teach:  teach me, if you will, to be good.”

They rose to their feet together—­he but an inch or so the taller—­ and for a moment, as he took her in his arms, she held back, her palms against his shoulders, her eyes passionately seeking the truth in his.  Then with a sob she kissed him and was gone.

For a moment she skated nervelessly, with hanging arms.  But, watching, he saw her summon up her strength and shoot down the glimmering ice-way like a swallow let loose from his hand.  So swift was her flight that, all unknowing, she overtook and passed the travellers jogging parallel with her on the high road; and had reached Kelstein and was putting her two small charges to bed, when her father’s knock sounded below stairs.

Mr. and Mrs. Grantham, though pompous, were a kindly pair:  and Mrs. Grantham, entering the library where Mr. Wesley and his daughter awaited her, and observing that the girl seemed frightened or depressed (she could not determine which), rang the bell at once and sent a maid upstairs for Hetty.

Hetty entered with cheeks still glowing and eyes sparkling; went at once to her father and kissed him, and running, threw her arms around Patty, who responded listlessly.

“She needs Kelstein air,” explained Mr. Wesley.  “I protest it seems to agree with you, Mehetabel.”

“But tell me all the news, father,” Hetty demanded, with an arm about her sister’s waist and a glance at Mrs. Grantham, which asked pardon for her freedom.

“Your sister shall tell it, my dear,” answered that good woman, “while I am persuading your father to sup with us.  I have given them a room together,” she explained to Mr. Wesley.  “I thought it would be pleasanter for them.”

“You are kindness itself, madam.”