"You know what I mean, Jean," he said. "Surely you know how I love
you."

Receiving no reply, he drew her quickly to him, and kissed her upon the
lips. Startled and embarrassed, she made a faint effort to free
herself, but strong arms held her firm.

"Don't! Don't!" she gasped, while the rich blood crimsoned her face.
"You have no right to do this."

"I have the right of love," Dane contended, as he again kissed her. "I
love you, and I know that you love me."

Jean made no further protest. Notwithstanding her confusion, she was
supremely happy. Although often wooed, she had never before submitted
to a lover's kiss, nor allowed his arms to encircle her. But now it
was different. She loved this man as she once thought it impossible to
love any one, and she knew that he loved her. His strength and
masterfulness appealed to her, and made her a willing victim. She
could not deny it, neither did she wish to do so. She was content to
give herself up wholly and unreservedly to her conquering hero.

And as the two stood silently there, the lordly maple seemed to reach
out its great branches over their young united heads and beam its happy
benediction. The ubiquitous squirrels appeared to know that something
unusual was taking place. They cocked their shrewd little heads in a
listening attitude, stared impudently, and then sent the news abroad to
their feathered and furry comrades of the forest. Of all this,
however, the lovers were unconscious, so lost were they in their
new-found joy.