"Try."
And so they stood with the golden light of the west on their faces. Norval did the thinking. He thought of the quickest possible method of setting Katherine free and making it right for him to kiss Donelle. He thought of the wild realization of his true nature—a nature that had been distorted and contracted by inheritance and training. He did not want the beaten tracks, that had always been the trouble. He wanted the unbroken trails, God! how he had thirsted and hungered for just what this little, wild, sweet thing in his arms represented. Love, simple, primitive love, music, understanding! And then Norval thought of Anderson Law! Thought of him, longed for him at that moment as a blind man might long for guiding, not to the right path, but on it.
"You may kiss me now!" This in a whisper.
The quick surrender startled Norval. He bent his head, still thinking of Law.
"My woman," he said to that uplifted face, "when I have the right, that somehow I forfeited, I will kiss you."
"But you said we were not to think; when you think, you remember."
"Yes, Donelle, we remember and we look ahead with faith."
Gently Norval let her free. He smiled at her, and the look in his eyes made her stand very straight, but she smiled back.
"I am so happy," she said simply. "And I thought I was never to be happy again."
"And I—why, Donelle, you've taught me what happiness means. And you will keep your promise about coming to the wood-cabin?"