That little sob in her speech was all that was needed to break away the barrier between them, for the next instant Ray’s arms were about the girl.
No words of love, no protestations, no promises. Only one instant’s meeting of soul and impulse, fierce as love of life, sacred as the hand of death.
Love consecrated it. The shadowing maples blessed it. The stars hallowed it.
And yet it was a long, long parting.
When Ray rode away next morning, he watched for her at the first sharp hilltop.
It was in vain, for Chip’s resolve had been taken, and he never saw the forlorn figure crouching behind that bush-topped wall, or knew that two wistful, misty eyes had seen him depart.
Few of us ever see even a faint image of ourselves as others see us; and yet, calm reflection spurred to self-analysis by a hungry heart occasionally effects that almost miracle.
In Ray’s case it did; for after his eager eyes had scanned every rod of that roadside trysting-place in vain, a revelation came to him–not a wide open one, such as he deserved, but a glance at himself and his conduct as it had been. First he saw Chip just as she entered their camp that night in the wilderness, so pitiful in appearance, so pathetic in her abject gratitude. Once again he looked at her appealing eyes growing misty while he played and sang his old-time love songs. He remembered that during all the days, weeks, and months following, he had never failed to find the love-light of admiration when his eyes met hers. It had all been a summer idyl, so sweet, so romantic, so tender, and so unexpected that he had scarce realized its value–not at all then, but faintly now.
For all that up-hill, down-dale journey to Riverton, he lived over this moonlit lake and wilderness camp episode, and every hour and every thought shared with him by this girl–a playmate and lover combined–returned again like echoes of past and gone heart throbs, each time a little sweeter, each time a trifle more piercing, until his own self-complacency faded quite away and an abject penitence began to replace it. For the first time in his callow youth he began to reflect, and once started on this beneficial course, the barometer of his vanity fell rapidly. It was not long ere his own conduct since he returned to Greenvale also added an assault. He had utterly failed to realize the meaning of Chip’s abject devotion–her pitiful first-hour confessions of how hard she had studied, and all for his sake; how she had counted days and hours until he was likely to return; how many times she had gone to the hilltop to watch for him; and even the eagerness of her arms and the warmth of her lips at that first moment of meeting, now came back to him.
Another and even a more painful self-reproach followed this–his own neglect of opportunities and the result.