And hardest of all to bear was the still, patient look in the enduring eyes.

She was being patient--_patient_, poor lamb, and only God himself knew how she cried when she was left alone in her white bed, the door closed between her and all the house.
"Does she think I am wicked ?" was what was passing through Robin's mind as the carriage climbed the moor through the rain.

"It would break my heart if Dowie thought I was wicked.

But even that does not matter.

It is only _my_ heart." In memory she was looking again into Donal's eyes as he had looked into hers when he knelt before her in the wood.