now forced upon Winn was not agreeable. He had too
much inborn ambition and energy of character, and once he had come to
feel himself his own master, as his mission to Rockhaven allowed, never
again could he fill a menial position and be satisfied, and the
possibility of it once more seemed degradation. Then again his present
dilemma was galling. He had followed Jess Hutton's advice, but no word
came from the city except the weekly remittance from his firm and
letters urging him to sell stock. He would not do so now, not even if
those honest people had offered any price, and what he had sold was a
source of dread. But no one wanted more, for the partial cessation of
work in the quarry was handwriting on the wall.

And so the summer days sped by, and Winn's longing for a better
understanding with Mona grew stronger. In a way he stood in a false
position toward all these people except Jess, and the longer it
remained so the worse it seemed, so one evening he resolved to confide
in Mona.

"Let us go over to the cave to-morrow afternoon," he said, "I've
something to tell you." It was the first step toward the right, and he
felt better for having taken it. When they were crossing the mile of
undulating ledges separating the village from this lonely gorge, Winn,
carrying the little green bag and leading Mona like a child around the
rocks, experienced a strangely sweet feeling of protection and care for
her, and with it came the determination to utter no more of the cutting
speeches so natural to him.

"I may not be here much longer," he thought, "and it shall be a pleasant
afternoon for her to recall when I am gone."

And be it said here that when a man feels that way toward a woman,
love's silken cord has been knotted about his heart. When they reached
the niche, at the head of the gorge, a surprise awaited Winn, for its
floor was carpeted thick with freshly gathered ferns, and bunches of
wild roses and clusters of red berries were thrust into each crevice.

"What good fairy has been here ahead of us?" exclaimed Winn as he looked
at the charming nook. "Was it you, Mona?"

"It must have been one of your mermaids," she answered prettily, "and
our coming has frightened her away."

"One who plays the violin, I imagine," he answered smiling, "and has
raven tresses instead of sea-green."

But when Mona was seated and he opposite reclined on the fresh green
carpet, he was in no hurry to tell his story, and for reason. The