y.

"Then what did you mean?" asked Alfred, in a stern voice.

"I don't know. Please don't speak so."

"Betty, forgive my harshness. Can you expect a man to feel as I do
and remain calm? You know I love you. You must not trifle any
longer. You must not fight any longer."

"But I can't help fighting."

"Look at me," said Alfred, taking her hands. "Let me see your eyes.
I believe you care a little for me, or else you wouldn't have called
me back. I love you. Can you understand that?"

"Yes, I can; and I think you should love me a great deal to make up
for what you made me suffer."

"Betty, look at me."

Slowly she raised her head and lifted the downcast eyes. Those
telltale traitors no longer hid her secret. With a glad cry Alfred
caught her in his arms. She tried to hide her face, but he got his
hand under her chin and held it firmly so that the sweet crimson
lips were very near his own. Then he slowly bent his head.

Betty saw his intention, closed her eyes and whispered.

"Alfred, please don't--it's not fair--I beg of you--Oh!"

That kiss was Betty's undoing. She uttered a strange little cry.
Then her dark head found a hiding place over his heart, and her
slender form, which a moment before had resisted so fiercely, sank
yielding into his embrace.

"Betty, do you dare tell me now that you do not care for me?" Alfred
whispered into the dusky hair which rippled over his breast.

Betty was brave even in her surrender. Her hands moved slowly upward
along his arms, slipped over his shoulders, and clasped round his
neck. Then she lifted a flushed and tearstained face with tremulous
lips and wonderful shining eyes.

"Alfred, I do love you--with my whole heart I love you. I never knew
until now."

The hours flew apace. The prolonged ringing of the dinner bell
brought the lovers back to earth, and to the realization that the
world held others than themselves. Slowly they climbed the familiar
path, but this time as never before. They walked hand in hand. From
the blur they looked back. They wanted to make sure they were not
dreaming. The water rushed over the fall more musically than ever
before; the white patches of foam floated round and round the shady
pool; the leaves of the sycamore rustled cheerily in the breeze. On
a dead branch a wood-pecker hammered industriously.

"Before we get out of sight of that dear old tree I want to make a
confession," said Betty, as she stood before Alfred. She was pulling