place.

[Sidenote: The Hour of Reckoning]

"It's been a long time since we were here last," Alden observed,
awkwardly.

"Has it?" The grey eyes glanced at him keenly for a moment, then swiftly
turned away.

"I've--I've wanted to see you," Alden lied.

"I've wanted to see you," she flashed back, telling the literal truth.

Alden sighed, for there was tremulous passion in her tone--almost
resentment. He had treated her badly, considering that she was his
promised wife. She had been shamefully neglected, and she knew it, and
the hour of reckoning had come.

For the moment he caught at the straw the situation seemed to offer him.
If they should quarrel--if he could make her say harsh things, it might
be easier. Instantly his better self revolted. "Coward!" he thought.
"Cad!"

"I've wanted to see you," Rosemary was saying, with forced calmness, "to
tell you something. I can't marry you, ever!"

"Why, Rosemary!" he returned, surprised beyond measure. "What do you
mean?"

The girl rose and faced him. He rose, too, awkwardly stretching out his
hand for hers. She swerved aside, and clasped her hands behind her
back.

[Sidenote: It's All a Mistake]

"I mean what I said; it's plain enough, isn't it?"

"Yes," he answered, putting his hands in his pockets, "it's perfectly
plain. If I've done anything to hurt or offend you in any way, I--I'm
sorry." So much was true. He was sorry for Rosemary and had never been
more so than at that very moment. "You'll give me a reason, won't you?"
he continued.

"Reason?" she repeated, with a bitter laugh. "Oh, I have plenty of
reasons!" His heart sank for a moment, then went on, evenly. "It's all a
mistake--it's never been anything but a mistake. I couldn't leave
Grandmother and Aunt Matilda, you know. They need me, and I shouldn't
have allowed myself to forget it."

"Yes," Alden agreed, quickly, "I suppose they do need you. I was
selfish, perhaps."

Hot words came to her lips but she choked them back. For an instant she
was tempted to tell him all she had seen and heard a few days before, to
accuse him of disloyalty, and then prove it. Her face betrayed her
agitation, but Alden was looking out across the valley, and did not see.
In his pocket the letter for Edith lay consciously, as though it were
alive.

"It isn't that you don't love me, is it?" he asked, curiously. His
masculine vanity had been subtly aroused.

[Sidenote: They Part]

Rosemary looked him straight in t