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the English call New Richmond and the French Baton Rouge. Your father is going to tie up there several days to give his boatmen a rest. I had planned to rest there too, but I won’t. I’ll press down to Dalroy. And when you come I’ll find you.”
    She said tremulously, “Yes.”
    “But until then,” Philip went on gently, “you’ll be with your own people, to do all the thinking you like.”
    She said again, “Yes.”
    “You darling,” said Philip. He drew her to him, and this time she did not resist nor even try to make herself do so. She put her arms around him and held him close in a surge of adoration that thrust out of her everything but the awareness that Philip loved her. How long they held each other there she did not know, but suddenly a stern hand caught her shoulder and flung her back. She staggered and nearly fell, but as she caught her balance she saw that her father was there, speaking furiously to Philip. Judith thrust the topaz chain into her bosom and heard Philip answer:
    “Very well, Mr. Sheramy. But I haven’t hurt her.”
    Mark held his gun at his side. “Mr. Larne,” he said, hardly opening his lips, “if you touch my daughter again I shall kill you.”
    Philip bowed. “Mr. Sheramy, it has been my intention for some time to ask your permission to marry your daughter. I trust you will do me the honor of granting it.” He smiled at Judith as though to assure her that her father’s answer would not matter very much.
    Judith felt the chain cold on her breast as her father returned:
    “Under no circumstances, Mr. Larne, would I consent to such a marriage. Good evening.”
    “Good evening,” said Philip, and went off through the wood.
    Mark came up to Judith and put his arm around her. “Come with me, daughter,” he said gently. He did not seem angry with her, only grave and very sad, and it made her feel more guilty than any reproaches could have done. They walked along in silence, but when they came in sight of the campfire he asked:
    “Do you want to wait here awhile before we join the others?”
    “Yes sir,” said Judith, and her voice broke and she began to sob. He made her sit by him on a fallen tree, holding her like a child and stroking her hair. After awhile she managed to ask:
    “Why did you say you would kill him?”
    “Because I will if he touches you again.” There was a pause, then Mark added, “I love you too dearly, Judith, to give you to a man like that.”
    “Like what?” she demanded rebelliously. “He hasn’t told you anything about himself!”
    “No, he doesn’t need to. Dear child, can’t you see that he’s godless, improvident, untrustworthy—that he’d neglect you, and put his own love of pleasure before your need of protection? No, Judith. You are not to see him again.”
    Judith held to a broken branch jutting out of the trunk. “He says he loves me very much, father.”
    “Daughter, trust me,” said Mark. He moved his hand along the bark until it rested on hers. “You would be cruelly unhappy with such a husband. More unhappy than I can tell you. You’re too young to understand. When a worthy young man comes courting you, I’ll be as glad as you. I want you to have a husband. But a good husband, Judith.”
    Judith was silent. A week ago she would have marveled that any girl could dare to doubt her own father. But in seven days Philip had shaken all her standards, though his values were still so new that she had no words with which to explain them. Mark said:
    “Marriage isn’t a moment’s desire, Judith. It’s a holy sacrament that lasts a lifetime.”
    “Yes sir,” said Judith. And then, because he seemed so troubled, she added, “I want to do right, father.”
    “I know you do,” he said, and pressed her hand.
    Caleb called them. The men were untying the boat for the afternoon journey.
    “What on earth were you and Judith doing off in the woods?” Mrs. Sheramy asked as they came near the fire.
    “Just talking,” said Mark.