was more curiosity than anything else in the tone. Again the moon shone out, and lighted up her face distinctly, as she answered him, looking straight before her along the snowy road.
"I think," she said, speaking with a slow consideration of her words; "I think it was because I could not bear to have you—go out of the world, believing—what was not true! It seemed like a deceit going over into eternity!"
Would he say something very dreadful in reply, she wondered; something that would haunt her for the rest of her days?
She was still bracing herself for the worst,—for he had not yet broken the silence,—when they came to the gate, fixed there, half closed. There was just room for Sunbeam to pass out, and Amy fell behind for a moment. Stephen drew rein and waited for her, while she vainly tried to close the gate.
"Don't mind that," he said. "It will close of itself when the snow melts."
She came obediently and walked beside him. They had turned aside from the direction of Springtown, toward a little house a few rods away. They were almost there when Stephen spoke again.
