“Where has it gone,” she asked, “the light that was there but a moment ago?”
The young man shook his head. “I can’t tell you,” he declared; “and, Josephine, please don’t ask me to think about abstract things just now. I want to tell you something.”
The young engineer spoke seriously, almost pleadingly. He did not seem to idealize that he had called his companion by her first name, but Miss Bayley knew it, and she was glad to have him. What had he to tell her? How she hoped—but—even to herself, she would not admit that desire.
For a few moments they walked on in silence. The road was slippery. He held her arm, but still said nothing. At last Miss Bayley peered into his face, trying to get him to lift his eyes from the ground. “I’ll not say ‘A penny for your thoughts,’ that is too trite,” she began, “but I do feel sort of left out and lonely. I’m just sure you are trying to figure out how to tunnel through Old Piney and make your walk home with me a quarter of a mile shorter.”
He looked up then, his fine eyes laughing, but in them there was an expression which assured the girl that he had not been thinking of tunnels, but of her. Taking her warmly-gloved hand, he said, “Lady of the Sunrise Peak, I’m going away.”
She stopped, and her eyes told her surprised disappointment.
“Oh, Mr. Edrington, why? May I ask? I thought you were going to stay here until spring or until you had heard that Marlita Arden had married.” She paused questioningly.
“I did intend to, but I’m running away from—something else—myself,” he hastened to add. “You see, Miss Bayley, I once made a resolution, and if I stay here I’m afraid I’ll break it.”
“Indeed? May I know what the resolution was?” They had reached the small cabin beyond the inn, and the girl-teacher paused on the doorstep waiting. What could he say? The liquid-brown eyes that were so expressive were searching his. She knew his answer before it was given.
“I have fallen in love, and I vowed I never would,” he said quietly.