Athalie

"I know."

"To-night, earlier, I did not understand why I should deny myself to

myself, to you, to them.... I did not understand that what I wished

for so treacherously masked a--a lesser impulse--"

He said, quietly: "Nothing is surer than that you and I, one day,

shall face our destiny together. I really care nothing for custom,

law, or folk-way, or dogma, excepting only for your sake. Outside of

that, man's folk-ways, man's notions of God, mean nothing to me: only

my own intelligence and belief appeal to me. I must guide myself."

"Guide me, too," she said. "For I have come into a wisdom which

dismays me."

He nodded and looked down, calmly, at the two men who had not stirred

from the shadow of the foliage.

She rose to her feet, hesitated, slowly stretched out her hand, then,

on impulse, pressed it lightly against his lips.

"That demonstration," she said with a troubled laugh, "is to be our

limit. Good night. You will try to sleep, won't you?... And if I am

now suddenly learning to be a little shy with you--you will not

mistake me; will you?... Because it may seem silly at this late

date.... But, somehow, everything comes late to me--even love, and its

lesser lore and its wisdom and its cunning. So, if I ever seem

indifferent--don't doubt me, Clive.... Good night."

* * * * *

When she had entered her room and closed the door he went downstairs,

swiftly, let himself out of the house, and moved straight toward the

garden.

Neither of the men seemed very greatly surprised; both retreated with

docile alacrity across the lawn to the driveway gate.

"Anyway," said the taller man, good-humouredly, "you've got to hand it

to us, Mr. Bailey. I guess we pinch the goods on you all right this

time. What about it?"

But Clive silently locked the outer gates, then turned and stared at

the shadowy house as though it had suddenly crumbled into ruins there

under the July moon.