For a little time, perhaps as long as it took his heart to pound thrice in wild tumult¹, they confronted each other in silence. Then—"Eve!" he cried, softly; and—  
"You!" she whispered.
 
Again a silence, in which he could have sworn that he heard his heart beating with gladness and the stars singing in the heavens.
 
"I—I wasn't sleepy," she said, breathlessly.
 
"Nor I. I didn't want to sleep. I wanted"—he stepped through the gateway² and seized the hand that lay against her breast—"you."
 
"Please!" she cried, straining away at the length of her slender arm. "You mustn't! You got my note!"
 
"And tore it to fragments—an hour since! I don't remember a word of it!"
 
"But I meant it!"
 
"You didn't!"
 
"Let me go, please; I ought not to be here; I don't want to stay here."
 
"You must stay until—but you're trembling!" He dropped her hand and stood back contritely³. "Have I scared you?"
 
"Yes.... I don't know.... Good night."
 
She turned, but didn't go. The moonlight enfolded her slim form with white radiance and danced in and out of her soft hair. Wade⁴ drew a deep breath.
 
"Will you listen a moment to me, please?" he asked, calmly.
 
She bowed her head without turning.
 
"You said in your note that you did not care to be made a convenience of. What did that mean, please?"
 
"You know!"
 
"But I don't. You must tell me."
 
"I don't wish to. Why do you try to pretend with me?" she asked with a flash of scorn.
 
"Pretend! Good Lord, is this pretense⁵? What do you mean? Is it pretense to be so madly in love with you that—that yesterday and to-day have"—he caught himself up. "You must tell me," he said, quietly.
 
"I meant that I would not marry you to salve your conscience." She turned and faced him, her head back scornfully. "You thought some of that money should be mine and because I refused to take it you—you tried to trick me! You pretended you—cared for me. Don't I understand? You threatened one day to have your way, and you thought I was so—so simple that I wouldn't guess."
 
"You mean," he asked, incredulously, "that you think I want to marry you just so I can—can restore that money to you?"
 
"Yes," she answered, defiantly⁷. But there was a wavering note in the word, as though she had begun to doubt. He was silent a moment. Then—
 
"But if I told you—convinced you that you were wrong? What then?"
 
There was no answer. She had turned her head away and stood as though poised⁸ for flight, one little clenched⁹ hand hanging at her side and gleaming like marble. He went toward her slowly across the few yards of turf. She heard him coming and began to tremble again. She wanted to run, but felt powerless to move. Then he was speaking to her and she felt his breath on her cheek.
 
"Eve, dear, such a thought never came to me. Won't you believe that, please? I care nothing about Ed's money. If you like I'll never touch a cent of it. All I want on this earth is just you."
 
His arms went around her. She never stirred, save for the tremors¹⁰ that shook her as a breeze shakes a reed.
 
"Am I frightening you still?" he whispered. "I don't want to do that. I only want to make you happy, dear, and, oh, I'd try very hard if you'd let me. Won't you, Eve?"
 
There was no answer. He held her very-lightly there with arms that ached to strain her close against his fast-beating heart. After a moment she asked, tremulously:
 
"You tore up—the note?"
 
"Yes," he answered. He felt a sigh quiver through her.
 
"I'm glad," she whispered.
 
Of a sudden she struggled free, pushing him away with her outstretched arms.
 
"You must stand there," she said, in laughing whispers. She crossed her hands, palms out, above her forehead to keep the moonlight from her eyes. "Now, sir, answer me truthfully. You didn't—do that, what I said?"
 
"No."
 
"And you won't say anything more about having your way?"
 
"No," he answered, with a happy laugh.
 
"And you won't ever even want it?"
 
"Never!"
 
"And you—like me?"
 
"Like you! I—"
 
"Wait! Stay just where you are, please, Mr. Herrick."
 
"Mr. Herrick?"
 
"Well,—I haven't learnt any other name."
 
"But you know it!"
 
"No," she fibbed, with a soft laugh. "Anyhow—well, so far you've passed the examination beautifully. Is there—is there anything more you have to say for yourself before sentence is passed?"
 
"Yes," he answered. "I came through the gate in the hedge." He went forward and dropped on his knee. "And I ask you to be my wife."
 
"Who told you?" she gasped¹¹, striving to recover the hand he had seized on.
 
"Miss Mullett."
 
"Traitress!" Then she laughed. "That was my secret. But I know yours."
 
"Mine? You mean—"
 
"Yes, about the name of your mine. I saw it on an envelope in the parlor¹² the other night. I don't see why you didn't want me to know. I'm sure I think it was very sweet of Edward to name the mine after me." She looked down at him mischievously¹³. He got to his feet, still holding her hands—he had captured both now—and looked down at them as they lay in his.
 
"It wasn't Ed who—I mean it wasn't exactly his idea," he said.
 
"You mean that it was yours?"
 
"Well, yes, it was."
 
"Indeed? But I suppose it was named after some one?"
 
"Ye-es."
 
"Another Evelyn, then," she said coldly.
 
"No—that is—well, only in a way."
 
"Let go of my hands, please."
 
"No."
 
"Very well. What was she like, this other Evelyn?"
 
"Like—like you, dearest."
 
"Oh, really!"
 
"Listen, Eve; do you remember once five years ago when a train stopped at the top of the Saddle Pass out in Colorado? There was a hot-box. It was twilight¹⁴ in the valleys, but up there it was still half daylight and half starlight. A little way off, in the shadow of the rocks, there was a camp-fire burning."
 
"Yes, I remember," she answered softly. "I thought we had been held up by train-robbers and I went out to the back platform to see. I didn't say anything to papa, because it might have scared him, you know."
 
"Of course," said Wade, with a smile.
 
"And so I went out and saw the track stretching back down the hill, with the starlight gleaming on the rails, and—"
 
"And the mountains in the west all purple against the sky."
 
"Yes. And there was a breeze blowing and it was chilly¹⁵ out there. So I was going back into the car when a dreadful-looking man appeared, oh, a—a fearsome-looking man, really!"
 
"Was he?" asked Wade, somewhat lamely¹⁶.
 
"Oh, yes! And I thought, of course, he was a robber or a highwayman or something."
 
"And—he wasn't?" asked Wade, eagerly.
 
"No." She shook her head. "No, he was something much worse."
 
"Oh! What?"
 
"He was a deceiver, a—a Don Juan. He made love to me and made me p............