n he turned his back, I sank
down once more within the shelter of the balcony. He stopped under the
trees, apparently having found a seat of some kind, although I could see
nothing except the tip of the burning cigar, as he flipped aside the
ashes. I had almost forgotten what might be occurring within, until
aroused by the sound of Le Gaire's voice.

He certainly looked a handsome fellow, standing there with hand still on
the knob of the door, dressed in a new uniform tailored to perfection,
his lips and eyes smiling pleasantly, never suspecting the reason for
which he was summoned.

"What is it, Billie?" he asked easily. "A last word, hey?"

"Yes," she answered, lifting her eyes to his face, but not advancing.
"I--I have been thinking it all over while waiting here alone, and--and
I find I am not quite ready. I sent for you to ask release from my
promise, or, at least, that you will not insist upon our--our marriage
to-night."

The man's dark face actually grew white, his surprise at this request
leaving him gasping for breath, as he stared at her.

"Why, good God, girl, do you realize what you are saying?" he exclaimed,
all self-control gone. "Why, we are ready now; Bradshaw just arrived and
every arrangement has been made for our journey. It cannot be
postponed."

"Oh, yes, indeed, it can," and she rose, facing him. "Surely you would
not force me against my will, Captain Le Gaire? I do not desire to
rebel, to absolutely refuse, but I hope you will listen to me, and then
act the part of a gentleman. I presume you desire me for your wife, not
your slave."

I thought he had lost his voice he was so long in answering; then the
tones were hoarse, indistinct.

"Listen! Yes! I want you to explain; only don't expect too much from
me."

She looked directly at him, her cheeks flushing to the insolence of his
accent.

"I am hardly likely to err in that way any more," rather coldly, "but I
do owe you an explanation. I have done wrong to permit this affair to go
so far without protest, but I did not comprehend my own feelings clearly
until to-night. I merely drifted without realizing the danger, and now
the shock of discovery leaves me almost helpless. I realize distinctly
only one thing--I can not, I will not, marry you.

"Do these words seem cruel, unjust?" she went on, strangely calm.
"Perhaps they are, yet it is surely better for me to speak them now than
to wreck both our lives by remaining silent longer. You