You."

As he spoke the expression came over her face that he had noticed when
he had first crossed her path with Mrs. Felton: the color forsook her
cheeks, the dreamy composure of her attitude vanished, and she
murmured in a scared, helpless tone, "Do you want to kill me?"

"No, no: do not think that," he hastily replied. Then seeing the boat
had drifted behind a little island that hid them from view, he moved
and sat on the floor beside her. "Dear Fay, believe me there is no
reality in your foreknowledge. Such a thing is impossible. Love me,
Fay, and I will shield you from any evil that may happen. Do not let
those sick fancies mislead you: they are gone never to return."

"Take me home, take me home," she sobbed, covering her face with her
hands. "Oh why do you talk to me in this way? It is unkind. You know
it cannot be. I will not listen to another word. Take me home."

Dr. Grey was too wise to insist. Love had quickened his intuitions. He
would have liked to take her in his arms and chase this threatening
horror from her mind: he was eager to plead his cause, to assure her
of his devotion, but without a word he resumed his seat and obeyed.

The generosity shown in thus preferring her wishes to his own touched
Fay more than any pleading could have done. She was convinced of his
unselfishness, and her confidence in him remained unshaken. For some
time after the scene in the boat she was very shy; but seeing he
avoided the forbidden subject, and unconsciously growing each day
fonder of his society, she allowed herself to drift into that closer
intimacy which can have but one reason for its charm. Maurice saw and
rejoiced. If he had won her heart he felt sure of surmounting the
imaginary objection to his suit, and he resolved on a bold stroke.

One evening after a long walk they were seated on a huge table-rock
jutting from the shore into the water, nothing but the lake before
them, the sky above, the forest behind. "Is it not a matter of
surprise that you should still be living, Miss Lafitte? he asked,
concealing his trepidation under the appearance of raillery.

"Why?"

"Because you have been in love with me for several weeks."

Struck with the truth rather than the audacity of his assertion, she
looked down, pondering intently a little space; then, not considering
what the admission involved, she said in a choked voice, "You are
right."

"And it has not hurt you," he went on eagerly. "I cannot hurt you.
W