on Margaret's shoulder.

After a moment Margaret began her interrogatory. "You consider yourself
engaged to Evert, don't you?"

"Yes, after a fashion. He doesn't care about it."

"Yes, he does. You don't comprehend him."

"Don't you think he ought to _make_ me comprehend, then? It seems to me
that that's his part. But no, the real trouble is that he doesn't in the
least comprehend _me_. He has got some idea of his own about me, he has
had it all this time. But I'm not like his idea at all; I wonder how
long it will be before he will find it out?"

"Don't you care for him, Garda?"

"No, not any more. I did once; at least that night on the barren I
thought I did. But if I did, I am sure I don't know what has become of
the feeling! At any rate it has gone, gone entirely; I only care for
Lucian now."

"And would you give up Evert, engaged to him as you are, with your own
consent and the consent of all your friends, for a mere fancy like
this?"

"Mere fancy? I shall begin to think, Margaret, that you don't know what
'mere fancies,' as you call them, are!"

"And what view do you take of the fact that Lucian is a married man?"
Margaret went on, gravely.

"A horribly melancholy one, of course. Still, it's a great pleasure just
to see him; I try to see him as often as I can."

"And you're willing to follow him about as you do--let him see how much
you like him, when, in reality, he doesn't care in the least for you? If
he had cared he would never have left you, as he did last winter, at a
moment's notice and without a word."

"No, I know he doesn't care for me as I care for him," said Garda. "But
perhaps he will care more in time; I have thought that perhaps he would
care more when he found out how I felt towards him; that is what I have
been hoping."

Margaret got up, she made a motion with her hands almost as if she were
casting the girl off. "Garda," she said, "you frighten me. I have tried
to speak with the greatest moderation, because I have not thought you
realized at all what you were saying; but you are so calm, you speak in
such a tone!--I cannot understand it."

"Well, Margaret, I've never tried to understand it myself. Why, then,
should you try?" said Garda, in her indolent way.

Then, as she looked at Margaret, she became conscious of the marked
change in her face, and it seemed to startle her. She rose and came to
her. "One thing I know," she said, quickly, "if you are vexed with me,
so vexed tha