but she did
not move from where he left her.

"It--it hurts me," she faltered, "for I truly desire you to think in
that way of me, and I--I don't know what is best to do. If I tell you
why I wished to come alone, you might misunderstand; and if I refuse,
then you will suspect wrong, and go away despising me."

"I sincerely wish you might repose sufficient confidence in me as a
gentleman to believe I never betray a trust, never pry into a lady's
secret."

"Oh, I do, Lieutenant Brant. It is not doubt of you at all; but I am
not sure, even within my own heart, that I am doing just what is right.
Besides, it will be so difficult to make you, almost a stranger,
comprehend the peculiar conditions which influence my action. Even now
you suspect that I am deceitful--a masked sham like those others we
discussed to-night; but I have never played a part before, never
skulked in the dark. To-night I simply had to do it."

Her voice was low and pleading, her eyes an appeal; and Brant could not
resist the impulse to comfort.

"Then attempt no explanation," he said, gently, "and believe me, I
shall continue to trust you. To-night, whatever your wish may be, I
will abide by it. Shall I go, or stay? In either case you have
nothing to fear."

She drew a deep breath, these open words of faith touching her more
strongly than would any selfish fault-finding.

"Trust begets trust," she replied, with new firmness, and now gazing
frankly into his face. "You can walk with me a portion of the way if
you wish, but I am going to tell you the truth,--I have an appointment
with a man."

"I naturally regret to learn this," he said, with assumed calmness.
"But the way is so lonely I prefer walking with you until you have some
other protector."

She accepted his proffered arm, feeling the constraint in his tone, the
formality in his manner, most keenly. An older woman might have
resented it, but it only served to sadden and embarrass her. He began
speaking of the quiet beauty of the night, but she had no thought of
what he was saying.

"Lieutenant Brant," she said, at last, "you do not ask me who the man
is."

"Certainly not, Miss Naida; it is none of my business."

"I think, perhaps, it might be; the knowledge might help you to
understand. It is Bob Hampton."

He stared at her. "The gambler? No wonder, then, your meeting is
clandestine."

She replied indignantly, her lips trembling. "He is not a gambler; he
is a mine