A Daughter of the Land

Kate smiled again.

"Come away," he begged. "Come out of this. Come walk a little

way with me, and tell me WHO you are, and HOW you are, and all the

things I think of every day of my life, and now I must know. It's

brigandage! Come, or I shall carry you!"

"Pooh! You couldn't!" laughed Kate. "Of course I'll come! And I

don't own a secret. Ask anything you want to know. How good it

is to see you! Your mother --?"

"At rest, years ago," he said. "She never forgave me for what I

did, in the way I did it. She said it would bring disaster, and

she was right. I thought it was not fair and honest not to let

you know the worst. I thought I was too old, and too busy, and

too flourishing, to repair neglected years at that date, but

believe me, Kate, you waked me up. Try the hardest one you know,

and if I can't spell it, I'll pay a thousand to your pet charity."

Kate laughed spontaneously. "Are you in earnest?" she asked.

"I am incomprehensibly, immeasurably in earnest," he said, guiding

her down a narrow path to a shrub-enclosed, railed-in platform,

built on the steep side of a high hill, where they faced the moon-

whitened waves, rolling softly in a dancing procession across the

face of the great inland sea. Here he found a seat.

"I've nothing to tell," he said. "I lost Mother, so I went on

without her. I learned to spell, and a great many other things,

and I'm still making money. I never forget you for a day; I never

have loved and never shall love any other woman. That's all about

me, in a nutshell; now go on and tell me a volume, tell me all

night, about you. Heavens, woman, I wish you could see yourself,

in that dress with the moon on your hair. Kate, you are the

superbest thing! I always shall be mad about you. Oh, if only

you could have had a little patience with me. I thought I

COULDN'T learn, but of course I COULD. But, proceed! I mustn't

let myself go."

Kate leaned back and looked a long time at the shining white waves

and the deep blue sky, then she turned to John Jardine, and began

to talk. She told him simply a few of the most presentable

details of her life: how she had lost her money, then had been

given her mother's farm, about the children, and how she now

lived. He listened with deep interest, often interrupting to ask

a question, and when she ceased talking he said half under his

breath: "And you're now free! Oh, the wonder of it! You're now,

free!"

Kate had that night to think about the remainder of her life. She

always sincerely hoped that the moonlight did not bewitch her into

leading the man beside her into saying things he seemed to take

delight in saying.