se
at hand all the time. What frightened you?"

"Oh, it was nothing!" she said evasively. "It was only for a minute."

"Tell me, please!" his voice compelled her.

"It was just for a minute," she said again, speaking rapidly and trying
to hide her embarrassment. "I woke and thought I heard talking and you
were not in sight; but it was not long before you came back with an
armful of wood, and I saw it was almost morning."

Her cheeks were rosy, as she lifted her clear eyes to meet his searching
gaze and tried to face him steadily, but he looked into the very depths
of her soul and saw the truth. She felt her courage going from her, and
tried to turn her gaze carelessly away, but could not.

At last he said in a low voice full of feeling:

"You heard me?"

Her eyes, which he had held with his look, wavered, faltered, and
drooped. "I was afraid," he said as her silence confirmed his
conviction. "I heard some one stirring. I looked and thought I saw you
going back to your couch." There was grave self-reproach in his tone,
but no reproach for her. Nevertheless her heart burned with shame and
her eyes filled with tears. She hid her glowing face in her hands and
cried out:

"I am so sorry. I did not mean to be listening. I thought from the tone
of your voice you were in trouble. I was afraid some one had attacked
you, and perhaps I could do something to help----"

"You poor child!" he said deeply moved. "How unpardonable of me to
frighten you. It is my habit of talking aloud when I am alone. The great
loneliness out here has cultivated it. I did not realize that I might
disturb you. What must you think of me? What _can_ you think?"

"Think!" she burst forth softly. "I think you are all wrong to try to
keep a thing like that to yourself!"

And then the full meaning of what she had said broke upon her, and her
face crimsoned with embarrassment.

But he was looking at her with an eager light in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Won't you please explain?"

Hazel was sitting now with her face entirely turned away, and the soft
hair blowing concealingly about her burning cheeks. She felt as if she
must get up and run away into the desert and end this terrible
conversation. She was getting in deeper and deeper every minute.

"Please!" said the gentle, firm voice.

"Why, I--think--a--a--woman--has a right--to know--a thing like that!"
she faltered desperately.

"Why?" asked the voice again after a pause.