me," he said, quickly, as soon as he saw her face; he
thought she was going to faint.

Margaret, though she was pale, smiled, and declined his help; she only
wished to rest for a moment, she said; the chaparral had tired her. She
stood still, embosomed in the foliage, her eyes closed, the long dark
lashes lying on her checks. Winthrop could see now more clearly how
delicate her face was; he remembered, too, that though she was tall, she
was a slender woman, with slender little hands and feet; her grace of
step, though remarkable, had probably not been of much use in forcing a
way through chaparral. But her cheeks were growing whiter, he was afraid
she would fall forward among the bristling little branches; he pushed
his way nearer and supported her with his arm. Garda meanwhile, her
fatigue forgotten, had started to come to her friend, Spenser helping
her, while Mr. Moore, his pole carefully held out over the trail (as
though otherwise it would disappear), watched them with anxiety from the
front.

But now Margaret was recovering, the color had come back to her face in
a flood; she opened her eyes, and immediately began to push her way
forward again, as if she wished to show Winthrop that he need have no
further fears. He stayed to aid her, nevertheless.

"Why didn't you go to her?" said Garda to Lucian Spenser, as they
resumed their former pace after Margaret's recovery. "I mean why didn't
you start before Mr. Winthrop did? There was time."

"He had the better right; he knows her."

"It wasn't a question of knowing, but of helping. As to knowing--you
don't know me."

"Oh yes, I do!" answered Spenser.

"But you have never seen me until to-day. Now please don't tell me that
I am so much like some one else that you feel as if you had known me for
ages."

"You are like no one else, your type exists only in dreams--the dreams
of artists mad on color. It's in my dreams that I have seen you," he
went on, surveying her with the frankest, the most enjoying admiration.
"Aren't you glad you're so beautiful?"

"Yes," responded Garda, with serene gravity. "I am very glad indeed."

They came before long to the descent of which he had spoken; it was a
miniature gorge, which led down to the beach in the scallop where Garda
had begun her race. As soon as they reached the lower level, Garda went
to Margaret and took her hands. "Do you really feel better!" she said.
"We'll stay here a while and rest."

Margaret refused, sa