"Because--she--she--might not ever--she might not ever know there was
such a love for a woman in the world!" she stammered, still with her
head turned quite away from him. She felt that she could never turn
around and face this wonderful man of the desert again. She wished the
ground would open and show her some comfortable way of escape.

The pause this time was long, so long that it frightened her, but she
dared not turn and look at him. If she had done so she would have seen
that he was sitting with bowed head for some time, in deep meditation,
and that at last he lifted his glance to the sky again as if to ask a
swift permission. Then he spoke.

"A man has no right to tell a woman he loves her when he cannot ask her
to marry him."

"That," said the girl, her throat throbbing painfully, "_that_ has
nothing to do with it. I--was--not talking about--marrying! But I think
she has a right to know. It would--make a difference all her life!" Her
throat was dry and throbbing. The words seemed to stick as she tried to
utter them, yet they would be said. She longed to hide her burning face
in some cool shelter and get away from this terrible talk, but she
could only sit rigidly quiet, her fingers fastened tensely in the coarse
grass at her side.

There was a longer silence now, and still she dared not look at the man.

A great eagle appeared in the heaven above and sailed swiftly and
strongly towards a mountain peak. Hazel had a sense of her own
smallness, and of the fact that her words had made an exquisite anguish
for the soul of her companion, yet she could not think of anything to
say that would better matters. At last he spoke, and his voice was like
one performing a sad and sacred rite for one tenderly beloved:

"And now that you know I love you can it possibly make any difference to
you?"

Hazel tried three times to answer, but every time her trembling lips
would frame no words. Then suddenly her face went into her hands and the
tears came. She felt as if a benediction had been laid upon her head,
and the glory of it was greater than she could bear.

The man watched her, his arms longing to enfold her and soothe her
agitation, but he would not. His heart was on fire with the sweetness
and the pain of the present moment, yet he could not take advantage of
their situation upon the lonely plain, and desecrate the beauty of the
trust she had put upon him.

Then her strength came again, and she raised her head a