Breath and strength failed her together; she lifted her hand, vainly grasping at the broad pedestal behind her; she would have fallen if he had not caught her in his arms.
Her head sank faintly backward on his breast.

He looked at the poor little tortured face, turned up toward him in the lovely moonlight.
Again and again he had honorably restrained himself--he was human; he was a man--in one mad moment it was done, hotly, passionately done--he kissed her.
For the first time in her maiden's life, a man's lips touched her lips.
All that had been perplexing and strange, all that had been innocently wonderful to herself in the feeling that bound Sydney to her first friend, was a mystery no more.

Love lifted its veil, Nature revealed its secrets, in the one supreme moment of that kiss.

She threw her arms around his neck with a low cry of delight--and returned his kiss.
"Sydney," he whispered, "I love you." She heard him in rapturous silence.

Her kiss had answered for her.
At that crisis in their lives, they were saved by an accident; a poor little common accident that happens every day.