"I hope you are not thinking of going East soon," said Kenneth quietly.
When she announced that she should, he protested vigorously.
That evening, Esther rode with him through beautiful mountain scenes. The heavens were still colored with the soft afterglow, as they sped along the upland road. Later, the moon rose, flooding the earth with its weird, transfiguring light.
Once more, Kenneth told Esther his past. He wanted her to know all there was to know, he said simply.
Then he poured into her ears the old, old story, sweetest story ever told, when love speaks and love listens. But Esther's eyes were haunted by a sudden fear.
Kenneth paused, and waited for her to speak.
Then, with a tightening of the lips, he listened to her answer.
She had not thought of love and marriage. She had naturally grown into thinking that she would devote herself to philanthropic work, as her grandfather, before her, had done.
"Yes," Kenneth said; "but your grandfather married; and his children married, and you, I take it, are the joy of his life. Suppose he had not married. Would his philanthropic work have been greater?"
Then there was more talk, that seemed to give pain to both, for Esther said: