consequence since you were a
child."

"I couldn't capture the whole world," mused Lily. Maurice kissed her
small fingers.

"Some one else will put it in your lap, to keep or throw away as you
choose."

The hurried tink-tank of an approaching cow-bell suggested passers. Then
a whir of wheels could be heard through tangled wilderness. The girl
met his lips with a lingering which trembled through all his body, and
withdrew herself.

"Now I am going. Are you coming down the trail with me?"

Maurice shut the lime-kiln door, and crossed with her a grassy avenue
to find among birches the ravelled ends of a path called the White
Islander's Trail. You may know it first by a triangle of roots at the
foot of an oak. Thence a thread, barely visible to expert eyes, winds to
some mossy dead pines and crosses a rotten log. There it becomes a trail
cleaving the heights, and plunging boldly up and down evergreen glooms
to a road parallel with the cliff. Once, when the island was freshly
drenched in rain, Lily breathed deeply, gazing down the tunnel floored
with rock and pine-needles, a flask of incense. "It is like the
violins!"

In that seclusion of heaven Maurice could draw her slim shape to him,
for the way is so narrow that two are obliged to walk close. They parted
near the wider entrance, where a stump reared itself against the
open sky, bearing a stick like a bow, and having the appearance of a
crouching figure.

"There is the Indian on the trail," said Lily. "You must go back now."

"He looks so formidable," said Maurice; "especially in twilight, and,
except at noon, it is always twilight here. But when you reach him he is
nothing but a stump."

"He is more than a stump," she insisted. "He is a real Indian, and some
day will get up and take a scalp! It gives me a shiver every time I come
in sight of him crouched on the trail!"

"Do you know," complained her lover, "that you haven't told me once
to-day?"

"Well--I do."

"How much?"

"Oh--a little!"

"A little will not do!"

"Then--a great deal."

"I want all--all!"

Her eyes wandered towards the Indian on the trail, and the bow of her
mouth was bent in a tantalizing curve.

"I have told you I love you. Why doesn't that satisfy you?"

"It isn't enough!"

"Perhaps I can't satisfy you. I love you all I can."

"All you can?"

"Yes. Maybe I can't love you as much as you want me to. I am shallow!"

"For God's sake, don't say you are shallow! There is