“I never had any ambition as high as marrying you,” Julia said, with the mysterious little smile that at once baffled and enchanted him.  “When I think of it, it makes me feel giddy, like a person walking in a valley who found himself set down on top of a mountain!  I never thought of marriage at all!”

“But you are going to marry me, sweet, aren’t you?” Jim asked anxiously.  “And you are happy, dear?  For I feel as if I would die of joy and pride!”

“Oh, I’m happy!” Julia said, and instantly her lip quivered, and her eyes brimmed with tears.  She jumped to her feet, and caught him by the hand.  “Come on!” she said.  “We mustn’t be so long!”

“But darling,” said Jim, infinitely tender, “why the tears?”

For answer she caught his coat in her shabbily gloved little hands.

“Because I love you so, Jim,” she faltered, trying to smile.  “You don’t know how much!” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, and for a moment her eyes looked far beyond him, down into the valley, and at the iron-cold bay with its racing whitecaps.  Then she took his hand, and they began to descend the steps.

“I may tell my mother, Julie?” Jim asked joyously.  “And Aunt Sanna?  And do you know that Julia is one of my favourite names—­”

“No, I want you not to tell any one,” Julia decided quickly.  “You must promise me that.  Nobody.”  Something in her tone surprised, a little chilled, him.

“Julie—­but why?”

“Well, because we want to be sure—­”

“Oh, sure!  Why, but, dearest, aren’t you—­”

“No, but wait a moment,” Julia interrupted, and Jim, turning toward her, saw a real trouble reflected in her face.  “I want you to meet my mother, and my own people,” she said, scarlet cheeked.  Jim’s grave, comprehensive look met hers.

“And I want to, dear,” he said.  And then, as her face did not brighten:  “Why, my dearest, you aren’t going to worry because your people aren’t in the Social Register, and don’t go to the Brownings’?  I know all sorts of people, Ju—­Kearney, up there, is a good friend of mine!  And I know from Aunt Sanna that you’re a long way ahead of your own people.”

“I don’t know whether it’s ‘ahead’ or not,” said Julia, with a worried laugh.  “I suppose only God knows the real value of finger bowls and toothbrushes and silk stockings!  I suppose it’s ’ahead’!”

She opened the Tolands’ side gate as she spoke, and they went into the bare garden.

“Well—­but don’t go in,” pleaded Jim, “there’ll be a mob about us in no time, and I’ve never had you to myself before!  When may I come see your people?”

“Will you write?” Julia asked at the side door.

“Oh, but darling, when we’ve just begun to talk!” fretted Jim.  “Would you dare to kiss me right here—­no one could possibly see us!”

“I would not!” And Julia flashed him one laughing look as she opened the door.  A moment later he heard her running up the stairway.