“Peter,” she said, as he came to stand beside her, “I’m so unhappy!”

“I’m sorry!” he said, simply.

“I can’t—­I can’t ever be here!” Cherry half-whispered.  “At least I can’t until some day—­years from now—­years from now!—­when you and I have forgotten—–­”

“I never shall forget,” he said.  And after awhile he added, “Shall you?”

“No,” she whispered, her eyes brimming until the dry and dusty green of the garden swam before her.

“Cherry, will you end it?” he asked her, huskily.

She gave him a startled look.

“End it?” she faltered.

“Will you—­do you think you are brave enough to give everything else up for me?” he asked.

“Peter!” said Cherry, hardly above a breath.

“Will you go away with me?” Peter went on, feverishly.  “That’s the only way, now.  That’s the only way—­now.  Will you go away?”

“Go away!” Cherry’s face was ashen as she moved her tragic and beautiful eyes to his.  “Go away where?”

“Anywhere!” Peter answered, confusedly.  “Anywhere!” He did not meet her look, his own went furtively about the garden.  Immediately he seemed to regain self-control.  “I’m talking like a fool!” he said, quickly.  “I don’t know what I’m saying half the time!  I’m sorry—­I’m sorry, Cherry.  Don’t mind me.  Say that you’ll forgive me for what I said!”

He had taken her hands, and they were looking distressedly and soberly at each other when an unexpected noise made them step quickly apart.  Cherry’s heart beat madly with terror, and Peter flushed deeply.

It was Martin Lloyd’s aunt, Mrs. North, their old neighbour, who came about the corner of the house, and approached them smilingly.  How much had she seen?  Cherry asked herself, in a panic.  What were they doing?—­what were they saying as she appeared?—­how much had their attitude betrayed them?

Mrs. North was the same loud-laughing, cheerful woman as of old.  She had moved to Portland to be near Martin’s mother, some years before, and was delighted with the chance that had brought her back to the valley on the very day that brought the Strickland girls back to the old house.

She kissed Cherry, and was full of queries for Martin.

“Durango?  Belle told me something about his going there,” she said.  “Isn’t he the wandering Ayrab?  And ain’t you the good-natured little wife to follow him about everywhere?  How long you been here, Cherry?”

“I’ve been with Alix and Peter for—­for several weeks,” Cherry said, uneasily.  Her eyes met Peter’s, and he conveyed reassurance to her with a look.

“When you going back, dear?” Mrs. North asked, with so shrewd a glance from Cherry’s exquisite rosy face to Peter’s that he felt a fresh pang of suspicion.  She had seen something—–­

“Why, I’ve been rather—­rather kept here by the—­the law-suit, haven’t I, Peter?” Cherry explained.  “But I expect to go as soon as it’s all settled!  Here’s Alix,” she said, gladly, as Alix came downstairs with an old kodak album in her hands.