"No, I wasn't sure, Betty--but I hoped. I have been haunting the
road for more than an hour. You are making one poor unworthy
devil happy, unless--"

"Unless what, Charley?" she prompted.

"Unless you came here merely to tell me that after all you
couldn't marry me." He put out his hand and covered hers that
held the reins. "I'll never give you cause to regret it--you
know how I love you, dear?"

"Yes, Charley--I know." She met his glance bravely.

"We are to go to the church. Mr. Bowen will be there; I arranged
with him last night; he will drive over with his wife and
daughter, who will be our witnesses, dear. We could have gone to
his house, but I thought it would seem more like a real wedding
in a church, you know."

Betty did not answer him, her eyes were fixed straight ahead, the
last vestige of color had faded from her face and a deathly
pallor was there. This was the crowning horror. She felt the
terrible injustice she was doing the man at her side, the depth
and sincerity of his devotion was something for which she could
make no return. Her lips trembled on the verge of an avowal of
her love for Carrington. Presently she saw the church in its
grove of oaks, in the shade of one of these stood Mr. Bowen's
horse and buggy.