s no expert on questions of the
heart,--that he had had no blighting experiences yielding him an
unwholesome harvest of premature wisdom.

For a long while they walked on in silence, holding each other's hands
like two children, and the sound of their footsteps upon the crisp,
crunching sand was singularly exaggerated by the great stillness
around them.

"And whom is it you have been visiting so late in the night, Elsie?"
he asked, at last, glancing furtively into her face.

"Hush, you mustn't talk about her," answered she, in a timid whisper.
"It was Gurid Sibyl, and she knows a great many things which nobody
else knows except God."

"I am sorry you have resort to such impostors. You know the Bible says
it is wrong to consult sibyls and fortune-tellers."

"No, I didn't know it. But you mustn't speak ill of her, or she will
sow disease in your blood and you will never see another healthy day.
She did that to Nils Saetren because he mocked her, and he has been a
cripple ever since."

"Pshaw, I am not afraid of her. She may frighten children--"

"Hush! Oh, don't!" cried the girl, in tones of distress, laying her
hand gently over his mouth. "I wouldn't for the world have anything
evil happen to you."

"Well well, you foolish child," he answered, laughing. "If it grieves
you, I will say nothing more about it. But I must disapprove of your
superstition all the same."

"Oh, no; don't think ill of me," she begged piteously, her eyes
filling with tears.

"No no, I will not. Only don't cry. It always makes me feel awkward to
see a woman cry."

She brushed her tears away and put on a resolute little pout, which
was meant to be resigned if not cheerful.

Fifteen minutes later they were standing at the foot of the stairs
leading up to his room. The large house was dark and silent. Everybody
was asleep. Thinking the opportunity favorable for giving her a bit of
parting advice, Maurice seized hold of both her arms and looked her
gravely in the eyes. She, however, misinterpreting the gesture, very
innocently put up her lips, thinking that he intended to kiss her. The
sweet, child-like trustfulness of the act touched him; hardly knowing
what he did, he stooped over her and kissed her. As their eyes again
met, a deep, radiant contentment shone from her countenance. It was
not a mere momentary brightening of the features, such as he had often
noticed in her before, but something inexpressibly tender, soul-felt,
and absol