nd at last
she drew away from him, gently, that she might look searchingly into his
face again, and shook her head slowly.

"And you were going away," she said, "without a word I thought--you
didn't care. How could I have known that you were just--stupid?"

His eyes lighted with humour and tenderness.

"How long have you cared, Victoria?" he asked.

She became thoughtful.

"Always, I think," she answered; "only I didn't know it. I think I loved
you even before I saw you."

"Before you saw me!"

"I think it began," said Victoria, "when I learned that you had shot Mr.
Blodgett--only I hope you will never do such a thing again. And you will
please try to remember," she added, after a moment, "that I am neither
Eben Fitch nor your friend, Tom Gaylord."

Sunset found them seated on the rock, with the waters of the river turned
to wine at the miracle in the sky their miracle. At times their eyes
wandered to the mountain, which seemed to regard them from a discreet
distance--with a kindly and protecting majesty.

"And you promised," said Victoria, "to take me up there. When will you do
it?"

"I thought you were going away," he replied.

"Unforeseen circumstances," she answered, "have compelled me to change my
plans."

"Then we will go tomorrow," he said.

"To the Delectable Land," said Victoria, dreamily; "your land, where we
shall be--benevolent despots. Austen?"

"Yes?" He had not ceased to thrill at the sound of his name upon her
lips.

"Do you think," she asked, glancing at him, "do you think you have money
enough to go abroad--just for a little while?"

He laughed joyously.

"I don't know," he said, "but I shall make it a point to examine my
bank-account to-night. I haven't done so--for some time."

"We will go to Venice, and drift about in a gondola on one of those gray
days when the haze comes in from the Adriatic and touches the city with
the magic of the past. Sometimes I like the gray days best--when I am
happy. And then," she added, regarding him critically, "although you are
very near perfection, there are some things you ought to see and learn to
make your education complete. I will take you to all the queer places I
love. When you are ambassador to France, you know, it would be
humiliating to have to have an interpreter, wouldn't it?"

"What's the use of both of us knowing the language?" he demanded.

"I'm afraid we shall be--too happy," she sighed, presently.

"Too happy!" he repeated