myself that it is only because you believe one thing,
and I another. But I assure you that it is my misfortune rather than my
fault that I have not pleased you,--that I have met you only to anger
you."

He paused, for she did not seem to hear him. She was gazing at the
distant lights moving on the river. Had he come one step farther?--but
he did not. Presently she knew that he was speaking again, in the same
measured tone.

"Had Miss Brinsmade told me that my presence here would cause you
annoyance, I should have stayed away. I hope that you will think nothing
of the--the mistake at the gate. You may be sure that I shall not
mention it. Good night, Miss Carvel."

He lifted his hat, mounted his horse, and was gone. She had not even
known that he could ride--that was strangely the first thought. The
second discovered herself intent upon the rhythm of his canter as it
died southward upon the road. There was shame in this, mingled with a
thankfulness that he would not meet Clarence. She hurried a few steps
toward the house, and stopped again. What should she say to Clarence
now? What could she say to him?

But Clarence was not in her head. Ringing there was her talk with
Stephen Brice, as though it were still rapidly going on. His questions
and her replies--over and over again. Each trivial incident of an
encounter real and yet unreal! His transformation in the uniform, which
had seemed so natural. Though she strove to make it so, nothing of all
this was unbearable now, nor the remembrance of the firm torch of his
arm about her nor yet again his calling her by her name.

Absently she took her way again up the drive, now pausing, now going on,
forgetful. First it was alarm she felt when her cousin leaped down at
her side,--then dread.

"I thought I should never get back," he cried breathlessly, as he threw
his reins to Sambo. "I ought not to have asked you to wait outside. Did
it seem long, Jinny?"

She answered something, There was a seat near by under the trees. To
lead her to it he seized her hand, but it was limp and cold, and a
sudden fear came into his voice.

"Jinny!"

"Yes."

She resisted, and he dropped her fingers. She remembered long how he
stood in the scattered light from the bright windows, a tall, black
figure of dismay. She felt the yearning in his eyes. But her own
response, warm half an hour since, was lifeless.

"Jinny," he said, "what is the matter?"

"Nothing, Max. Only I was very foolis