merica.

"We shall have to say our parting very soon," the man said presently;
"we have both travelled to-day, and I must go in a very early hour
to-morrow."

"Yes," she replied, "I am much more weary to-night even than I was last
night."

"If we are tired we might again have trouble," suggested her companion
wisely. Then he added quickly, "But, no, never again,--I have promise
that."

"Shall we not return to the hotel now?" she asked.

"But why will you go back so quick?" he asked in an injured tone; "do
you want to be so soon alone?"

"I thought that you wanted to be."

"I want to sit down and not walk ever," he said, pausing by an empty
table in the open-air cafe. "What made you stop?" he went on, looking at
her, she having paused where he did, naturally.

"I stopped because you did."

"Because I did! that has no sense."

"Then I'll go on alone," and she moved away.

He rejoined her in three steps, laughing.

"Why do you walk off like that?" he demanded.

"Because you said that there was no sense in my stopping."

He looked at her in great amusement.

"_Que vous etes tordante!_ I asked you why you stopped loving your
husband?"

She stared.

"Why, it's ever so long since we were speaking of that. How funny you
are!"

He turned her back towards the empty table.

"Let us sit down here and talk, it may be the last time for long."

She hesitated, thinking of Molly.

"It is so nice here," he declared, persuasively; "only for a few minutes
we stay."

She sat down forthwith; he followed suit. A maid came and took his
order, and then he clasped his hands upon the table before him and was
still, appearing to be overtaken by some sudden and absorbing train of
thought.

After a little the music recommenced, and his soul returned to his eyes
with a quick upblazing light. He reached out his hand and touched hers.

"Listen!" he exclaimed imperatively; "you go to learn something now. Pay
much notice."

The violins of the orchestra were pouring forth their hearts in a sweet
treble song, whose liquid liaisons flowed high above the background of a
dark monotony of single chords. The air was singularly full of feeling,
and reached forth its individual pleading to each individual listener.

"You have hear that?" he whispered with a smile.

"Never," she whispered in return.

"You shall wait a little," he murmured, resting his chin on his hand and
turning his eyes on the lake again; "in a moment you s