He longed with all his strength
to hold her in his arms--every nerve in his body ached for her--yet he
knew that because of this unconquerable instinct he was powerless to
follow his longing.
"I don't think I deserve much, Molly," he said quietly.
She hesitated still, looking away from him in the direction of her path,
which led over the meadow.
"Abel, be good to Judy," she said, without turning.
"I will, Molly, I promise you."
He moved a step toward the turnpike, stopped, and looked back.
"I can't do much for you, Molly," he said, "but if you ever need anybody
to die for you, remember I'm ready."
"I'll remember," she answered, with a smile, but her eyes were misty
when she passed the blazed pine and turned into the little path.
CHAPTER X
TANGLED THREADS
In front of Molly, the path, deep in silvery orchard grass, wound
through the pasture to the witch-hazel thicket at Jordan's Journey; and
when she entered the shelter of the trees, Gay came, whistling, toward
her from the direction of the Poplar Spring. He walked rapidly, and
his face wore an anxious and harassed expression, for he was making the
unpleasant discovery that even stolen sweets may become cloying to a
surfeited palate.
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