ge look from so young a
girl. It was as if she were fighting against the subtle spell of his
words, the demand for her love which shone in his eyes.

"No, I am not angry," she said at last; and her voice, though very low,
was calm and unshaken.

He made a movement towards her, but she shrank back, only a little, but
perceptibly, and he checked the movement, the desire to take her in his
arms.

"You are not angry? Then--Ida--I may call you so?--you don't mind my
loving you? Dearest, will you love me just a little in return? Wait!"
for she had shrunk again, this time more plainly. "Don't--don't answer
without thinking! I know I have startled you, that I ought not to have
spoken so soon, while you only know so little of me--you'd naturally
say 'no,' and send me away. But if you think you can like me--learn to
love me--"

He took her hand, hanging so temptingly near his own; but she drew it
away.

"No; don't touch me!" she said, with a little catch in her voice. "I
want to think--to understand." She paused for a moment, her eyes still
seeking the distant hills, as if in their mysterious heights she might
find something that should explain this great mystery, this wonderful
thing that had happened to her. At last, with a singular gesture, so
girlish, so graceful that it made him long still more intensely to take
her in his arms, she said in a low voice:

"I do not know--No! I do not want you to touch me, please!" His hand
fell to his side. "I can't answer you. It is so--so sudden! No one has
ever spoken to me as you have done--"

He laughed from mere excess of joy, for her pure innocence, her
unlikeness, in her ignorance of love and all pertaining to it, to the
women he knew, made the charm of her well-nigh maddening. To think that
he should be the first man to speak of love to her!

"I am not angry--ought I to be? Yes, I suppose so. We are almost
strangers--have seen so little of each other."

"They say that love, all true love, comes at first sight," he said in
his deep voice. "I used to laugh at the idea; but now I know it is
true. I loved you the first time I met you, Ida!"

Her lip quivered and her brows knit.

"It seems so wonderful," she said, musingly, "I do not understand it.
The first time! We scarcely spoke--and I was almost angry with you for
fishing in the Heron. And I did--did not think of you--"

He made a gesture, repudiating the mere idea.

"Is it likely! Why should you?" he said. "I was jus