him like this, almost
breathlessly, ever since her sudden faintness, listened as though she
would draw his very soul in through her ears.

He too flushed. "It's life and death to me, Sylvie," he pleaded.

"Life and death--life _or_ death," she repeated strangely. She stood,
as if turning the speech over in her mind, then gave her head a quick
little shake like a diver coming to the surface of deep water, and moved
a step toward Pete. "Are you coming, boy, or not? I want to feel your
face."

"Do as she says," Hugh commanded harshly, and Pete came slowly to her
and stood with his hands locked behind him, bending over the little
figure. She put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a shake, and
smiled.

"Such a big, strong boy! Where's your face?" It winced and paled under
her touch. His eyes fell, shifted, could not meet Hugh's, who watched
with unsteady breathing and white lips.

"Your face is as smooth as a girl's, Pete. What a wide, low forehead
and crisp, short hair; it ripples back from your temples. You must be
a pretty boy! A neat nose and a round, hard chin and--oh, Pete, Pete! I
believe you have a dimple. How absurd! A great, long dimple like a slit
in your right cheek. Why do you blink your eyes so? They're long eyes,
with thick, short lashes. What a strong, round neck! I think I like your
face."

She patted his cheek, the pat more like a smart slap. He pulled away.
"That's for disobedience. Come back. I'm not through with you. Where's
your mouth? A big, long mouth. Pete, why does your mouth tremble?" Her
hand fell from his lips, and she turned away. "Take me out for a walk,
Hugh, please," she said. "This cabin is stuffy, now that the days are
warm. I want to sit under the pines and listen to the river. You can
tell me one of your wonderful stories about yourself."

"What does it mean, Bella?" Pete asked breathlessly when Hugh had gone
out, not so much leading the girl as hurrying after her to save her from
the rashness of her impetuous progress. "What does it mean?" Pete was as
white as paper.

"I don't know." Bella came over from the window and stood by the
fireplace, rolling her arms in her apron and shaking her head. "She's a
crazy little witch. She'll drive us mad. Hugh is half mad now--have you
noticed? She won't let him touch her. And you, poor boy! Pete, why don't
you go away?"

"I've thought about it," he said. "I--I can't." He flung himself down in
Hugh's chair and rested his head in his