thing more to one
another than friends."

A cold hand seemed to grasp my heart--a horrible fear that I had lost
all that I cared for--all that made life desirable.

"Why can't we?" I asked. "Do you mean that--that the gods have been
gracious to some other man?"

"No, no," she answered hastily--almost indignantly, "of course I don't
mean that."

"Then it is only that you don't love me yet. Of course you don't. Why
should you? But you will, dear, some day. And I will wait patiently
until that day comes and not trouble you with entreaties. I will wait
for you as Jacob waited for Rachel; and as the long years seemed to him
but as a few days because of the love he bore her, so it shall be with
me, if only you will not send me away quite without hope."

She was looking down, white-faced, with a hardening of the lips as if
she were in bodily pain. "You don't understand," she whispered. "It
can't be--it can never be. There is something that makes it
impossible, now and always. I can't tell you more than that."

"But, Ruth dearest," I pleaded despairingly, "may it not become
possible some day? Can it not be made possible? I can wait, but I
can't give you up. Is there no chance whatever that this obstacle may
be removed?"

"Very little, I fear. Hardly any. No, Paul; it is hopeless, and I
can't bear to talk about it. Let me go now. Let us say good-by here
and see one another no more for a while. Perhaps we may be friends
again some day--when you have forgiven me."

"Forgiven you, dearest!" I exclaimed. "There is nothing to forgive.
And we are friends, Ruth. Whatever happens, you are the dearest friend
I have on earth, or can ever have."

"Thank you, Paul," she said faintly. "You are very good to me. But
let me go, please. I must be alone."

She held out a trembling hand, and, as I took it, I was shocked to see
how terribly agitated and ill she looked.

"May I not come with you, dear?" I pleaded.

"No, no!" she exclaimed breathlessly; "I must go away by myself. I
want to be alone. Good-by."

"Before I let you go, Ruth--if you must go--I must have a most solemn
promise from you."

Her sad gray eyes met mine and her lips quivered with an unspoken
question.

"You must promise me," I went on, "that if ever this barrier that parts
us should be removed, you will let me know instantly. Remember that I
love you always, and that I am waiting for you always on this side of
the grave."

She cau