gain that griping ache
was in her throat, till she could have cried out with the pain of it.
She wanted to speak, to say something--anything--which would drive that
look from his face.

While her mind groped among the jumble of words that danced upon her
tongue, and that seemed, all of them, so pitifully weak and inadequate,
she heard the galloping hoofs of a horse pounding close behind. A
choking cloud of dust swept down upon them, and Keith, riding in the
midst, reined out to pass. He lifted his hat. His eyes challenged
Beatrice, swept coldly the face of her companion, and turned again to
the trail. He swung his heels backward, and Redcloud broke again into
the tireless lope that carried him far ahead, until there was only a
brown dot speeding over the prairie.

Sir Redmond waited until Keith was far beyond hearing, then he filled
his lungs deeply and looked at Beatrice. "Don't you feel you could trust
me--and love me a little?"

Beatrice was deadly afraid she was going to cry, and she hated weeping
women above all things. "A little wouldn't do," she said, with what
firmness she could muster. "I should want to love you as much--quite as
much as you deserve, Sir Redmond, or not at all. I'm afraid I can't. I
wish I could, though. I--I think I should like to love you; but perhaps
I haven't much heart. I like you very much--better than I ever liked
any one before; but oh, I wish you wouldn't insist on an answer! I don't
know, myself, how I feel. I wish you had not asked me--yet. I tried not
to let you."

"A man can keep his heart still for a certain time, Beatrice, but not
for always. Some time he will say what his heart commands, if the
chance is given him; the woman can't hold him back. I did wait and wait,
because I thought you weren't ready for me to speak. And--you don't care
for anybody else?"

"Of course I don't. But I hate to give up my freedom to any one, Sir
Redmond. I want to be free--free as the wind that blows here always,
and changes and changes, and blows from any point that suits its whim,
without being bound to any rule."

"Do you think I'm an ogre, that will lock you in a dungeon, Beatrice?
Can't you see that I am not threatening your freedom? I only want the
right to love you, and make you happy. I should not ask you to go or
stay where you did not please, and I'd be good to you, Beatrice!"

"I don't think it would matter," cried Beatrice, "if you weren't. I
should love you because I couldn't h