ing of the
river and the leaping of a fish. The heifers were munching the grass
by the roadside a little ahead.

"I must go now," she said, coldly, "or they'll be out seeking me."

"I'll walk with you as far as Lague--it's dark," he said.

"No, no, you must not!" she cried, and fumbling the loose fold about
her throat she turned to go.

But he laid hold of her arm.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Only think of my brothers. Your very life would be in danger."

"If all six of them were ranged across the other end of this bridge,
and you had to walk the rest of the road alone, I would go through
them," he said.

She saw the high lift of his neck and she smiled proudly. Then they
walked on some distance. He was gazing at her in silence. There was a
conscious delight of her beauty in the swing of her step and the
untamed glance of her eyes.

"Since the country is so fine I suppose you'll stay a long while
there?" she said in her sweetest tone.

"No longer than I must," he answered.

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"But why not?" she said again, looking at him sideways with a gleam
of a smile.

He did not answer, and she laughed merrily.

"What a girl you are for laughing," he said. "It may be very
laughable to you that I'm going away----"

"But isn't it to you? Eh?" she said, as fast as a flash of
quicksilver.

He had no answer, so he tried to laugh also, and to take her hand at
the same time. She was too quick for him, and swung half a pace
aside. They were then at the gate of Lague, where long years before
Stephen Orry first saw the light through the elms. A late rook was
still cawing overhead; the heifers had gone on towards the courtyard.

"You must go now, so good-bye," she said, softly.

"Greeba," he said.

"Well? Only speak lower," she whispered, coming closer. He could feel
the warm glow of her body.

"Do you think, now, if I should be a long time away--years it may be,
perhaps many years--we should ever forget each other, we two?"

"Forget? No, not to say forget, you know," she answered.

"But should we remember?"

"Remember? You silly, silly boy, if we should not forget how ever
could we fail to remember?"

"Don't laugh at me, Greeba; and promise me one thing," and then he
whispered in her ear.

She sprang away and laughed once more, and started to run down the
path. But in three strides he had her again.

"That will not do for me, Greeba," he said breathing fast. "Promise
me that you wi