ed:

"Do you remember, Alice, the promise made me about a year ago?"

"That I would wait a year before deciding?"

"Yes, I believe you did say a year."

"But, Mr. Lanier, that was only nine months ago."

"While I have no right to hurry you, Alice, yet when a man's dearest
hopes are at stake, waiting three long months is a great trial."

"Still, Mr. Lanier, to decide such an important question is a year too
long?"

Mistaking her trembling earnestness for genuine interest in the proper
solution of this heart problem, Paul gravely urged:

"In the time already passed since my proposal, you surely have reached a
decision, and it is cruel longer to keep me in suspense."

Alice began to cry.

Paul attributed her tearful, hesitating manner to yielding consent, and
said:

"It will be better for me to now know my fate than to suffer the
uncertainties of three long months."

As Alice still hesitated, Paul boorishly insisted:

"Do here and now decide my fate."

Thus pressed, Alice replied:

"Mr. Lanier, I am so sorry to say that I never can become your wife."

Alice continued in a stammering way to tell Paul why she could not
accept his proposal.

Seeing that the frightened girl had power to refuse, Paul Lanier
listened with stoic, dogged silence. His craft did not forsake him, but
encouraging Alice freely and fully to state her whole mind, he
helplessly acquiesced.

Apparently dazed, Paul was some time silent; then with resigned air
said:

"I wonder why Mr. Langdon and Miss Randolph have not found us? Perhaps
it would be wise to return before it is late."

They started back, Paul showing no lack of courtesy toward this girl who
had crushed his hopes.

Alice felt rebuked by his conduct, and tried to be very kind in her
manner.

They met their friends near the point of separation. There were mutual
exchanges of surprises, but no one was pressed for explanations. A
strange self-abstraction seemed to control all. Without many words, the
four went together to the place where they had left Sir Donald. The
party was soon on the lake, sailing homeward. Finding the carriage in
waiting, they reached the Northfield residence at sunset.

Evidently all had enjoyed the outing, but they were weary, and soon
retired.

Both Paul and Oswald had reason to ponder the eventful experiences of
that day. Each felt keen disappointment, chafing at the perversity of
fate.

Esther and Oswald had strolled along pleasantly fo