DESTINY



a black pearl, which hardly seemed characteristic of
native wear. Then he went on:
  "But, after all, Mary, they lived good lives and died
good deaths, and-" he hesitated, then said slowly-
"and, after all, it's June, and you and I are young.
Can't it always be June for us, dear"
  A bird from a great oak lifted its voice. It was
a happy bird and would tolerate no sadness. It
caroled to its mate and to the sky and through her
tears Mary Burton smiled and the gorgeous vividness
of her face was illuminated.
  "While we've got each other," she said, "I guess it
can be June."
  Suddenly she put out her slender, but strong, young
hands and caught his two arms, and stood there look-
ing at him.
  "Once, dear," she said, "when I was a very little
girl, I used to dream of going out and seeing all the
wonderful things beyond those hills. I used to dream
of having rich men and titled men come to me and
make love. I used to cry because I thought I was
ugly-and then I met you by the roadside-and you
were my fairy prince-but I didn't guess you were
going to be my own-for always."
  Jefferson Edwardes smiled and into his eyes came a
fervent glow.
  "I can see you now," he said, "as you stood that
first day I ever saw you, when I told you that your
beauty would be the beauty of gorgeousness-when
I warned you that the only thing you need ever fear
was-the loss of your simplicity. The woods were
flaming at your back, but your loveliness outblazed
their color, and then you were a thin little girl-a
trifle chippendale in plan."



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